Frozen Skyrim
by Masterless
Summary: The Dragonborn and the Snow Queen. An unorthodox pair that shouldn't be in the same realm together but find themselves in such a predicament. Where do they go from there without causing more damage to each other's sanity?
1. Elsa: The Queen's Endeavor

The piece of paper lies on the corner of her nightstand by her bed, ominously reminding her of this day and the business that she needs to attend to. Her bed lies on the other side of her spacious room, but with the weight the message carries, it always feels like the paper is within her hands and her eyes are still deciphering every word written on it. Part of her feels like she should never have broken the seal and opened the rolled up paper, but as the Queen of Arendelle, there will always be things she has to do despite her feelings against it. This particular task is one of those things and what's even more encumbering about it is that it involves her dealing with the aftermath of a certain event not too long ago. Elsa truly wished that she would never have to delve into the past again, but that's just the child in her imploring miracles to happen. But the Kingdom of Arendelle needs their Queen now and a child wishing for a miracle will just not do.

"Queen Elsa," the warmth of Gerda's voice, along with the feeling of her burgundy cloak draping over her shoulders broke Elsa out of her reverie, "are you alright?"

The answer should be simple enough since life in Arendelle is no longer about ostracizing herself from society. The gates are no longer closed and her rapports with her people are now filled with mirth and trust. Not to mention the biggest testament of her life's improvement is her relationship with her sister. Anna and her close again like they were when they were young and nothing can break that bond. Elsa would do anything to protect her and their relationship, which is probably one of the main incentives she has for dealing with this issue that was presented to her less than a week ago.

"I am, Gerda," Elsa responds while staring at her reflection on the mirror. She manages a smile as her brooch secures her cloak to her body. "Thank you for asking."

"Your Majesty if I may—" Elsa is more than able to decipher the look of concern etched on Gerda's face through the mirror. She doesn't wait for the sentence to be finished before speaking up.

"Gerda, please, you may at any time," proper etiquette isn't important to Elsa when she is talking to people that is close to her. "You know that your words are always welcome."

It is an unspoken fact that Gerda, along with Kai have raised both Anna and Elsa after the tragedy of their parents' death, which is why Elsa finds it peculiar that Gerda would speak to her like she was another person and not as the woman that raised her.

"Very well. Elsa, if you don't want to attend you, you don't have to," Gerda states with a humble but stern tone. "You have other means to extend your presence."

"Send Kai or another representative is what you are insinuating, right?"

"You don't owe the Southern Isles anything, Elsa. Quite literally, it's the other way around."

There were a myriad of things Elsa wanted to say in regards to Gerda's words but a knock on the door quickly interrupts Elsa's thought process. Her head immediately turns towards the said door and not too long after, a voice accompanies the knock.

"Elsa?"

The smile on Elsa's face broadens and Gerda is more than aware that this moment is more than needed. Nodding her head, Gerda walks towards the door and opens it to reveal none other than Anna waiting on the other side.

"Oh! I'm.. I'm sorry! Did I… I'm sorry! Can I come in?"

As always, Anna carries the exuberance in any mood that she is in. Nervous as she may be, her mind seems to still want to move faster than her words can form. Anna might be carefree and sometimes naïve, but she does have the uncanny ability to brighten things up. With a flagrant smile still etched in Gerda's face, she bows her head at Anna.

"No need for apologies, Princess, I was just on my way out," Gerda turns to Elsa just to give her salutation. "Whenever you are ready, your Majesty. Your ship awaits."

With those words, Elsa and Anna are alone behind the closed door of Elsa's room. In a normal circumstance positive talks and Anna's joyful personality would be bombarding the room right now, but alas the ambiance is somber and definitely not the norm. Turning back to the mirror and observing herself, Elsa takes note once more that her coronation dress is missing the vibrant teal glove that she used to wear with just about every outfit back then. Not that she has an intention on wearing them again but it's something that she can't help but notice. There's no longer any need to conceal her powers; all of that is in the past. Though as she found out a week ago, some things in the past are hard to bury and some things are harder to control than her powers.

"Do you have to go?"

Anna's voice is laced with disdain as much as her expression is. Strange, some odd years ago Elsa asked the same question to her parents and she too had that same concerned facial expression; the outcome of course was a tragic event that forever changed the lives of both sisters. The loss of the King and Queen affected all of Arendelle but who would feel the most strife other than the daughters they left behind? Stuck in her thoughts about the past, Elsa slightly flinched as Anna's hand touched her shoulder. Anna's question still remains unanswered and the Princess is adamant at making sure that Elsa replies.

"Elsa, do you really have to-"

"Anna, you and I have discussed this already," Elsa's response is immediate and her tone of voice isn't by any means scolding but it is fortified with sternness, "I have to do this. I have to bury this past."

"It's my past too."

"I know, but they asked for the Queen of Arendelle personally. It would be behoove of us to remember that there are political matters attached with what Hans' did in our kingdom."

"His brother asked for the Queen," Anna's voice starts to rise to an almost shouting tone, "but they forgot that they're also risking my Sister's safety!"

To Elsa, no other love is more valuable than the one that Anna has and continues to give her. Anna's perseverance didn't die and for that, Elsa owes Anna a lot. It's been almost a year since the events of the 'eternal winter' fiasco and the two have so much to retrace and so much to rebuild in regards to their relationship. The damage the years of solitude brought upon them still reverberates within Elsa and so rebuilding is the only thing she has in mind and that means putting certain issues to rest. Complying with the summoning to speak on behalf of Arendelle in regards to Hans' crimes is part of the act of resolving the said issues. If her words seals Hans' fate, it means that Anna is that much closer to safety. _She has to do this_—Elsa has to travel to the Southern Isles; it's as much of an issue of her as a Queen as it is for Anna's well being. With the thought of their sisterhood in her mind, Elsa faces Anna with a warm smile and grabs her sister's hands and holds them gently. Anna immediately reciprocates the gesture and the warmth of her skin overshadows the freezing hands of Elsa's.

"I'll be back," Elsa's grip reaffirms when she said those words. "I owe it to you and to everyone else in Arendelle to come back."

It wasn't so much the words that Elsa managed to say, but the way she said it and the gesture of their hands together that evokes a faint smile from Anna. It may not be the zealous reaction that would be expected from the Princess of Arendelle, but for the first time in the last few days, Elsa was at least able to get some kind of positive reaction out of her. Something that Elsa is in dire need of seeing is Anna's jovial personality rather than the almost too sullen persona that she has been giving off.

"I know you will!" the optimist side of Anna is also something that Elsa welcomes wholeheartedly. "Besides, Kristoff and I have a lot of plans with ice delivering and everything else so being stuck in Arendelle as its temporary monarch isn't as fun, so you better hurry back!"

Haste would be the only thing in Elsa's mind in regards to this business, but she knows it won't be the case. Still, Elsa can't help but giggle at Anna's pouting face, which is of course part of her sister's charm. Despite Anna still the less adequate one to rule Arendelle, Elsa knows that the kingdom would be in good hands with Gerda and Kai guiding her; after all, they were a big factor to teaching Elsa how to properly attend to the duties of a queen. With that thought, Elsa forms a crown made out of ice, complete with the intricate patterns of her liking and a deep blue colored ice in the middle to properly announce her royalty. Taking it with both her hands as soon as it reaches tangible form, Elsa places it on her head, neatly acting as décor on her hair and complimenting the snowflakes on her long braid. During the process of creating her jewelry, Anna watched avidly, still not entirely used to Elsa's ability to make such constructs on the whim. However a different expression dawns on Anna's face as Elsa puts the said crown on.

"What?" Elsa asks as she notices the peculiar look on her sister's face.

"Your usual clothing looks better than that one."

The 'usual' that Anna speaks of is none other than Elsa's elegant blue dress that is created from her imagination. It's more or less another one of her construct, as the dress is made of enchanted threads that are weaved through the replication of ice and snow. Anna uses the image of Elsa in her dress as a symbol of the rolling 'change' in their relationship. To see her back in her coronation outfit doesn't exactly have the same affect, but more or less a reminder of the times before. Elsa knows this, thus why she keeps on smiling as she leads Anna towards the door by her hand.

"I'll be back soon enough to be in my usual attire," Elsa may be reassuring Anna, but for some reason, she herself needs to hear these words from her own mouth, "in the mean time, just try not to get Arendelle in too much trouble, okay?"

"Oh, of course I won't," Elsa's reassurance seemed to have done her magic for now since Anna's demeanor is back to the upbeat attitude that she is known for. "And if I do, you'll be back soon enough to fix things!"

With a bounce to her step, Anna skips ahead and exits the room. Elsa shakes her head at Anna's response before letting herself feel the happiness from the idea of leaving her beloved sister on a more positive image. With luck, the summoning will go quicker than Elsa predicts and she'll be back in Arendelle in no time. Things have indeed gotten better and perhaps they will keep going that direction for her family. Though as soon as those thoughts crosses her mind, a strange sensation pervades from her chest and it causes a _very_ cold tingling up her spine. With eyes wide of shock, Elsa follows the feeling behind her and finds herself staring at the mirror. For a moment it seems like a normal reflection of her, but with a single blink, something changes and the face staring back at her is an insidious version of her. The eyes are glowing with a deeper tint of blue and her grin insinuates far more sinister than Elsa can even muster. As if the distorted reflection isn't enough, the image moves and its hand reaches towards Elsa, as if the reflection itself has life on its own. Appalled and confused, Elsa stumbles backwards and prepares to freeze back if needed, but she finds herself hitting the wall behind her causing her to flinch away thinking it was something else. Realizing that there's no threat behind her, Elsa reverts her attention back towards the mirror expecting to see the altered reflection, but alas nothing but an image of herself with a very shaken and defensive stance. For a few moments Elsa stands there with her hands extended on both sides ready to conjure up anything that would help her situation. Her breathing echoes as she stares at her reflection, as the adrenaline is still strong. Lost in translation and truly unable to come up with a reasonable cause for such an apparition to appear on her own image, Elsa starts to lower hands but still ready in case such a strange occurrence appears again.

"Elsa!" Anna's voice pierces Elsa's ears, calming her nerves somewhat. "Come on! The sooner you leave the sooner you'll get back!"

"Y-yeah!" Elsa replies, trying to sound as calm as she can. "Of course! I'll be right there!"

Fixing herself so that she won't have such a paranoid stance, Elsa gives one more glance at her mirror to find nothing amiss. Sighing, she dismisses it as some kind of trick her mind is playing with her due to the stress of the situation she is about to find herself in. What else could it be but that? While she may not know Hans' older brothers, she doesn't exactly have the best first impression of them due to their kin's mishap. Taking a deep breath and straightening her cloak, Elsa follows Anna and closes the door behind her letting the long hallway of her castle greet her with the full conviction of not giving the strange occurrence anymore thought.

"Just _let it go_," Elsa mutters under her breath as a final statement in regards to everything encumbering her. After it is all said and done, the burden of the paper that lies on her nightstand will no longer weigh her down.

**To Be Continued.**


	2. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen

I am Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Legendary hero of Skyrim. Dragon in human form. The _ultimate_ Dragon slayer. It's not all the time that I have those ceremonial names accompanying my reputation. More often than not the people of Skyrim fear or loathe my existence, until of course I save them from some dire situation that usually involves something gargantuan like the beast I am chasing right now. The people of Morthal didn't exactly welcome me with open arms but they thanked their gods I was there the moment they spotted this frost dragon descend towards their pathetic excuse for a town. Part of me truly wished I had allowed it to snatch one of the guards, but I suppose even I have some kind of grace still dwelling inside of me.

But even the remaining grace I have left is dwindling with every interaction I have with the friendly folks of Skyrim. Still, I do it for redemption…

I shook that thought off as I shoot another bolt at its direction, eliciting a howl of pain from me attacking the same open wound. On any given day a dragon would fly higher to evade danger from below, but I made sure that when it gave me the required proximity with my blade that I struck vital areas of its wing-arm so that flight would be excruciatingly painful. Still, the distance between us does not exactly allow me to deal the damage I yearn to give it. Though judging from direction it is heading, Eldersblood Peak is the place it would attempt for refuge and the place that would give me the proper altitude I need to finally end this. Giving Arvak a slight nudge with my foot, the undead horse gallops forward with more speed, tearing through the snow with both its weight and the hellfire. It avoids the ruins and trees along our way as it concurs with my conviction of reaching the mountains before the beast. In the mean time I shoot the dragon again, causing it to stumble in flight while it roars.

"Even in **DEATH** Alduin mocks me!" I shout at the beast, taunting it, and with another bolt hitting it at the right area, I know it hears and feels my threat. "He leaves me legacies such as you! Worthless, flying excrement!" I shoot again and quickly reloading right after. "Your existence is a mere reminder for the people of Skyrim that you are entertainment for the Dragonborn! Your bones are for the giants to pillage for their tools! Accept reality, beast!" I shoot once more and watch intently as the bolt hits the beast at its belly. "You are a laughingstock! Your kin before and after you are all just scare tactics for children!"

My aim is absolute and the moment the last word was thrown, I press the trigger on Avarice and it took less than a few blinks before the crossbow does its damage, hitting the area where the 'arm' meets the body. The dragon falters again and it flies crookedly for a few moments before regaining some of its composure. Despite the dragon's built of having spikes cover its back and other random areas of its body, the bolts I have bombarded it sticks out like a sore thumb. An obvious answer as to why its flight is furthered hindered aside from the abysmal cut it gained from Muramasa earlier. While still howling in agonizing pain, the dragon alters its direction and makes an effort to descend towards me. Angry, in pain, and obviously desperate, the dragon is now trying to go back to its offensive, having been convinced that I was not going to relent on my attack. I want it dead... so let it come.

"That's it! You gained some of your fortitude!"

It opens its jaws and with an ear piercing shout, the dragon omits a breath of frost that would undoubtedly be fatal to anyone else but me, though I'm not exactly in the mood to feel that kind of pain right now and luckily Arvak agrees; feigning right, the trail of 'cold fire' destroys the ground not too far from me, leaving a trail of _frozen_ destruction behind the attack. Having missed me entirely and its tactic quite obvious, I turn my body and aim Avarice again and let loose as much bolts as I can as the dragon tries to regain some altitude. Four I was able to fire, but only three really did its damage. Though that would be good enough for me since I have gained the proper footing that I needed to end this before it even reaches its 'solace'… if that is even the word to call Eldersblood Peak; more like a tomb for the dumb beast. Managing to turn itself back towards the direction it was intending to go before I taunted it, it clumsily flies onward with me in lead. It tries to retaliate from my earlier assaults yet again by shouting projectiles of ice spears at my direction, which were easily evaded or hilariously deterred by the trees that Arvak is weaving through in zigzag like patterns. I half wanted to let out another gloat but refrained since I am near the mountain. Sheathing Avarice on its holster behind me, I concentrate on making sure I don't fall off Arvak since we are trekking higher on the mountains and soon enough, the path is too steep for even Arvak to travel on the same pace as he has the last few moments. Still, with the dragon faltering in flight, I have the proper lead that I needed to get pass the hurdle mountain rocks and gravity, and it doesn't take long until I am able to get to the proper area where the land is flat.

For a moment I take in the view of Lost Valkygg that can be seen in the distance. I suppose it can be considered a beautiful view, but that is quickly blocked by the brooding image of the frost dragon wailing towards me with its not so graceful flight path. Smirking slightly inside my helmet, I nudge Arvak to move forward towards the edge of the mountain where a certain death would meet anyone who would fall from its height and suffice to say, I'm not exactly planning on plummeting to my death. At least not alone… as the dragon charges forward, I take out Muramasa, grasping it with my right hand as the undead horse of mine meets the beast's pace. Finally seeing an advantage it has with the narrow space I am in, the dragon releases another breath of cold fire and its path is straight towards me, giving Arvak very little to no room to maneuver. Of course, there isn't much else I expected this beast to do in regards to his attack. With proper timing, I push off from Arvak, letting the conjured horse take the full wrath of the _frozen flame_. If this was any other mount that would've been a cruel tactic even for me, but at the very least Arvak can be summoned again at any time he is needed; right now, the battle takes to the air.

They say a Dragonborn's soul is that of a dragon trapped within the confines of a mortal body. There have been a handful of Dovahkiin's before me; I fought the eldest one some time ago apparently. He may have been the first but he wasn't the best; he was more or less an aberration of me. From what I have heard, every one before me all had different roles and points of view … though all of them have one thing in common with me: wings do not sprout from our backs willingly, at least not like this beast. But the lack of certain limbs or stature doesn't exactly go against me; I do posses some of their powers. A dragon's voice is malleable to my every whim… and for this case I need to rush forward faster than the wind. The distance between my assailant and I was great but not troublesome. The attention he gave decimating the area I was in gave me the proper momentum I needed to get this far, though to its credit, the beast is able to compose itself and notice that I am just above it and coming down with my blade in tow. It could evade and let me fall to my death, it could panic and let me cut through it and claim its soul, or it could do what it did and reposition itself so that it would be in maximum posture for a proper bellow of its frost breath. It got confident and as it slightly poises its head back with the curl of its neck, it accumulates as much as it can, its chest expanding for a few moments before it lunges its head forward and follows up with a howl of its frost heading straight towards me. Taking the hilt of Muramasa with both hands as I swing downwards, I push towards the beast with undeniable speed, meeting the trajectory of its attack in full glory with my own strike.

"I was right!" I meet the blistering cold air that this dragon omits which immediately slows down the speed of my fall. With Muramasa in front and glowing with power, I form an unintended shield that is more or less 'cutting' through the cold fire, keeping the majority of me safe from its attack. "You are a worthless excrement! You had the opportunity to escape with your life, and you choose to die! Don't you know? The cold doesn't bother me at all!"

The beast omits more of its frost with as much ferocity as it can as I remain in position with the same amount of tenacity in me. A standstill between a dragon's wrath and a dragon slayer's blade… the sight from below must be both intimidating and aspiring, but for anyone who has truly tried to stand obstinately in front of a dragon's shout as boldly as this probably never had the chance to tell the glory of how it feels. But I am Dragonborn. Dovahkiin. Alduin's bane and the **_hope_** for the pitiful people of Skyrim. With that thought in mind I push forward, gathering energy and shouting with fury, letting the power of my body, my sword, and my conviction take me towards my target. The stalemate ends and I gradually move towards the beast to its disdain. Struggling to maintain its position, the dragon's attack starts to dwindle in cruelty, and soon gravity takes over me as well, and with that and all the other factors that are helping me push towards its direction, the moment where the crimson blade meets its prey is now.

Darkness.

A warrior no matter his prowess will always blink at the moment of truth during his attack. For that moment of blackness, I barely hear the painful cry of the beast; I barely feel the friction, or for that moment, I am oblivious to my free fall. But soon the darkness dispersed and my eyes can catch the sight of half the dragon's face, and the rest of its body flailing aimlessly not too far away. I cut a path through it and now I am falling towards an unlikely lethal fall towards trees and dense snow. Though it would be an unfitting end for the Dragonborn to die falling; it would've been a far worse of a death if I didn't have a plan in suit for such a dare devil tactic. Luckily, I'm not one to die for such a maneuver. Taking a deep breath, I let out a whisper, one that I haven't uttered for some time now. The chilling energy surrounds me, swallowing my every form, and in a matter of moments, I become an ethereal being falling from the skies. It's a strange feeling falling from the sky in a spectral like form, though it's a better feeling than what I would feel if I hit the ground in a bloody, disheveled mess.

The moment of landing is of course opposite of what it would be if I were not in ethereal form. The feeling is best described as a spec of snow hitting the ground. No sound, no weight, no distortion, not a single thing was bothered the moment I landed. The trees remained still, the snow below me has no bearings of my arrival, and of course my body remains unscathed with such a fall. I slowly ease myself off the crouching position and into a standing posture, well aware of the carcass of the dragon falling not too far from me. The greater half somewhere, tumbling down the mountain behind me while the smaller half ironically landing close. It almost amazes me just how quick a dragon will turn from flesh to bones the moment of its death… and in those moments of its _decomposing_, the life force of the beast enters me in the form of energy in thread like flares. I feel the power… I feel strength… my vigor renewed… in these few moments, I take a deep breath and close my eyes. One of the few solace I take from being me: The Dragonborn. Every skull of a dragon is like a trophy I leave behind to remind the land that they are safe for a time; at least safe from these creatures since I do take pleasure in slaying them. As I prepare to sheathe my blade, something beyond the skull of the dragon piques my interest. Movements among the snow, silhouettes from the grave are walking towards a certain direction, almost as if some shepherd is herding them. It is told that when indulging in the whisper of becoming ethereal, one would be in the realm of both the living and the dead. This is where the apparitions of the past wander and perhaps this is also where communication would be more eloquent between the living and the dead. Though admittedly, I'm not one to converse with the dead since I have placed many in the said predicament. Though the blue shadows moving like draugs towards something does take kindly to my curiosity.

Intrigued, I take a few steps to follow them and it doesn't take long until I am shown the exact reason why they are gathering. An enchanting image… a clearer silhouette of a woman who seems to be manipulating snow with mere gestures of her hands to whatever shape and form she would want. With her left arm she creates a trail of snow to fly up… her right arm creating yet another… then with both hands, she creates the symbol of Skyrim in the sky! I stand there mystified and confused. I wasn't sure if I should stare at the symbol of my land or at the woman… though that decision is made for me when the construct of the said symbol turns red and shatters. It's in that moment I give my undivided attention towards the apparition responsible for the 'show'. The crowd that was following her are now blurred images that is red like how the Skyrim symbol was… if I look closely I could almost make out…

_'__Fear.'_

Anyone else would have flinched at the haunting tone the word carried as it pervaded from this silhouette. It is at that moment I realized that I have wasted enough of my time indulging in the archaic hauntings of Skyrim. Sheathing Muramasa, my ethereal form fades away and once again I am in the cold and harsh weather of Skyrim. Beyond the skull of the dead frost dragon lies no apparitions… no confusion... Makes me ponder why it is I would see that. Perhaps it is a testament that I should not delve into that whisper if I can help it. Shrugging my shoulder, I summon Arvak and jump into his back and take speed to wherever I should go. If that little ordeal was to mean something, I have chosen not to mind it. The definitive of the end of Skyrim has gotten very little 'awe' factors from me. This land and all its tribulation is no longer of my concern…

Only one thing really is of my concern…

Legendary hero of Skyrim? Hardly. The ultimate dragon slayer is a correct term.

I am Dragonborn after all. The wind is my plaything and the sky is my playground. If I am to be hated because I choose to treat my 'fate' as a game, then I suppose they should curse the gods for giving me the soul of the dragon.

**To Be Continued….**


	3. Elsa: The Demon from the Past

One can't blame Elsa for having glued her eyes on the waters since her ship left Arendelle. Though the whole entire journey has been more than serene, Elsa is more than aware that it could turn for the worse thus her paranoia. But even she knows that constantly staring out into the window of her quarters towards the open sea isn't exactly the best way to spend her time for a journey as demanding as this. Sighing to herself, Elsa walks towards her table and takes the roll of paper and gingerly unravels it. Part of her truly wishes that she never asked Gerda to fetch the said letter, though she knew that she needed to read it one more time for her own reasons.

_-Queen Elsa of Arendelle,_

_There are no words that I could say to truly convey just how much I regret not being the one to represent the southern isles on the day of your coronation. Because of my inadequacy for the occasion, my youngest brother committed a plethora of heinous crimes against you, your sister, and your kingdom. Though I am not a man without his honor and I would gladly swallow my pride just to gain some sort of rapport with you and Arendelle. To show a fraction of my sincere apology, I would ask you to speak your words and testify against my brother's crimes personally. You would do our kingdom a great honor by doing us this kind favor. We believe in justice, your Majesty, and despite my love for my brother, I also believe that he must acknowledge the burden of his actions. _

_I'll be looking forward to your response._

_King Christian of the Southern Isles-_

For what seems like the hundredth time reading it since she broke the seal, Elsa can't shake the weight of the request from Hans' eldest brother. It may be cordial and polite but to Elsa, there is enough insinuation that it's a _must_ for her to attend. Whether it be the politics involved or perhaps it's the 'gut' feeling that Elsa has, she knows she has to go. Though despite those two factors, Elsa can't help but feel something rather peculiar about it; that certain 'something' is one she can't seem to decipher despite herself.

"Your Majesty," A royal guard knocks on her door, "the port is in sight."

"I'll be up there," Elsa responds with as much confidence in her voice. "Thank you."

Peeling her eyes away from the letter and placing it down, Elsa makes her way upstairs on the open where the strong scent of seawater greets her once more. The wind slightly carries her cloak behind her as she walks towards the ledge to get a glance at the port. Her destination is indeed in sight.

"How many of us would you like to accompany you, your Majesty?" A guard walks to her side bowing before he asked the question.

"None," Elsa responds with a smile while her eyes still staring at their destination, "I'll keep a conservative presence."

At first the guard isn't keen on leaving their Queen unprotected in an unknown land with a prince who caused enough trouble in Arendelle. Though Elsa makes her answer clear through her smile and with a slight show of what she was insinuating with a bit of snow projecting from her hand.

"Don't worry, I'll be fine."

A Queen with the ability to fend for herself is a rare thing making the guard feel somewhat inadequate. Though it is part of the reason why Elsa is well loved because she would not put her people into unnecessary risk if she can avoid it. Being able to concoct her own set of guard made up of ice and snow is something she sees adequate for the situation and her guard respects it. Smiling back and bowing his head, he turns around and goes back to his duties leaving Elsa with the view of the open water and the destination in sight.

He remembers his cell. Every intricate details of his captivity are still fresh and all of his senses can still recall them on the whim. The cold chains around his wrists, the pungent smell of body wastes from the other prisoners, the acrid flavor of the water he received every time he thirsted, and the uncomfortable ground he slept on are the things he keeps in mind every time intimidation of the unknown factor of his goal seeps in. At one point he had it all before being a prisoner in his own kingdom. Power was in his grasp; his blade was so close to taking the Snow Queen's life! He had it! His plan had worked so efficiently and immaculately that he was going to be King of Arendelle, the one who would've saved Arendelle from destruction. His blade was right there and the moment would've been his.

_'Noooo!'_

Then that moment ended when he heard Anna's voice and the image of her jumping in between Elsa and his sword. His blade was _frozen_ and it broke into shards of ice before it even struck Anna. When the shockwave launched him, he felt his victory slip passed his grasp and he cursed himself for not having more efficiency.

_'The only frozen heart around here is yours!'_

Then the humiliation that followed after. Perhaps if he'd killed Anna himself the crown would've been his and the months of immeasurable humiliation would not be in his memory. But sometimes things happen for a reason as he recalls the moment when the mysterious stranger came before him when he was in his cell.

_'I surmise that they haven't given you the royal treatment that you have been accustomed to, am I right, Prince Hans?'_

Time had become obscure to Hans so being pestered during sleep didn't really irritate him like it used to. Sadly at that point, he has gotten used to his claustrophobic and dirty room and all the agony it entailed with it.

_'You're not one of the guards,'_ Hans responded with as much pride as he was known for. _'You here to finally tell me what my sentence is?'_

The mysterious visitor merely chuckled as he lowered the hood that was covering his face. At first Hans thought nothing of it since his vision must've been playing tricks on him. The lack of sunlight in one's eyes could do plenty to distort things including possibly seeing a man with skin of grey right in front of him. But the more Hans focuses, the more he is able to decipher that the man does indeed have grey skin. Along with that skin tone, there are other peculiar things about this man's face like his ears being pointier and his eyes have a distinct blood shot color to them, which Hans tried to disregard despite the uneasiness.

_'In some ways I am,' _The stranger's voice also had a peculiar tone to them. _'You have a bit of crimes to pay for, Prince Hans.'_

Hans stood up from his stone hard mattress and grabbed the bars of his cell and gave the stranger a burning glare.

_'Listen here! I've been rotting in this cell for…'_

_'Close to a year.' _The stranger finished his sentence nonchalantly with a grin plastered on his face. Even his teeth are not of the norm; they had a sharper, fang-like shape to them.

_'Close to a year? And my brothers haven't bothered with me?'_

_'They have had thoughts of you, Prince, but not to the extent that would hasten word to your fate. I'm afraid it is as you have feared: you are invisible to them.'_

Hans' reaction was obvious in both his gesture and his facial expression. While his brothers had never been his greatest support or allies, he was always under the impression that in the direst situation, blood will be the bond that will finally pull through and break walls that had been built between them. After all, the sisters of Arendelle pulled through despite the odds stacked against them. Alas, that fairy tale won't be the case for Hans. At that moment, Hans was more than aware of the political bickering between his eldest brother and four of his other brothers, and then his other siblings were off gallivanting in their own royal endeavors. That would make the youngest of the brothers almost unworthy of a thought; perhaps, he wasn't even a thought despite what the stranger uttered out of his mouth. Prisoner of his own kingdom and not one of his brothers had even attempted to personally admonish him.

_'You can sit here and wallow or make a destiny for yourself outside the shadows of your elder brothers.'_

For a few moments, Hans' attention was towards the ground; appalled and lost of any true words, Hans barely heard the words that this stranger said the first time. Then as he mused at what was given to him, the sound of guards coming perked his ears towards their direction. He wasn't entirely sure where the stranger stood in regards to being welcomed inside the dungeon. Perhaps he got permission, or he snuck in, truth to be told, this peculiar stranger was the first person Hans had a decent conversation with. The guards could've taken that moment away but to Hans' astonishment, the armored soldiers of the King were not in their usual posture. They marched mindlessly and stood by the stranger's side as if they were his personal guards.

_'Now is the time to make a choice, Prince Hans,' _The stranger's voice omitted a stronger sense of urgency than before. _'Make amends with your failure, or rot in prison expecting the best from your brothers.'_

_'You'll set me free just like that?'_

_'Just like that.'_

_'What's the catch?'_

The stranger snapped his fingers in response and one of the guards moved towards the cell door, which made Hans back away, slightly intimidated. Though there was no violent intent from the guard as all the guard was 'commanded' to do was to unlock the door. The moment the door swung open, Hans had the chance to take a glance at the guard who had a very blank look in his eyes as if he was possessed which made a lot of sense to how obedient Hans' former guards were being to a stranger. Immediately after pushing the said door open, the guard took a few steps back and was standing side to side with the stranger who remained stark still; his red like eyes observed Hans and was obviously awaiting for some kind of response.

_'The catch, you ask?' _The stranger spoke again. _'There's only one.'_

_'And what's that?' _Of course there's a catch and Hans raised a brow at what the said catch could be.

_'You have to have the stomach for some blood in your hands, little Prince.'_

For a moment Hans stood flabbergasted at such a statement. It was condescending as much as it was an aspersion towards him. Or perhaps this stranger didn't really know what Hans was willing to do for his freedom? With those thoughts in his mind, Hans gave a confident smirk and took a few steps towards the open door.

_'There is one more thing,' _The moment he was out the door and the stranger spoke, the same guard walked towards Hans and undid the shackles that were keeping his hands prisoner in front of him. _'I suppose you remember clearly why you were in prison?'_

_'You're asking me trick questions, aren't you?'_

_'I'm asking you if you still have the desire to be a King.'_

Perplexed but still intrigued, Hans stared at his strange new partner with renewed vigor. While many things are still a mystery, Hans knew that at least there were a few things that seemed to be promising for him. With the same pompous expression on his face, Hans replies.

_'If it takes bloodshed to be a King, then I'd gladly do it.'_

_'Good,' _The stranger turned his body so that he would be facing the exit of the dungeon. The guards followed his motion without any words, further confirming that he had some kind of enchantment that made them follow his every whim. _'Now follow me. We'll get you some armor, weapon, and then we can send a letter to the Queen of Arendelle so that we may get an audience with the Snow Queen.'_

Hans still remembers his reaction the moment this stranger he came to know as Gilaro brought up the 'Snow Queen'. The subject of Elsa brings more than enough emotions out of Hans that he was motionless, he stood in the middle of the dungeon, unable to utter a single word or even blink for that matter. Even as the days and weeks rolled by, Hans was never truly able to give the proper reactions to the myriad of things Gilaro and the men that he brought would say. They are foreigners to say the least, and for the most part, the information they shared with Hans were adequate but not enough to TRULY paint the full picture. Though he truly has no room to complain at the moment since they freed him, supplied him with weapons and armor, and not to mention they have allowed him to personally send the bait to Elsa. The time waiting and being around these foreigners of course hasn't been the best experience, but having condescending allies isn't exactly the worse experience Hans have had. Besides the ship that carries Elsa is now in sight.

"You know what you must do, correct?"

Hans grips the amulet in the palm of his hands and felt a surge of power emanating from it. An ebony crystal encased in a gold amulet no bigger than palm of his hand is a strange thing to conclude as one that will truly give him the ability to fight against someone who can control ice and snow on the whim. Though given what he has been shown through Gilaro's ability to charm guards, call forth elements, and summon unworldly creatures, Hans has to believe that Gilaro's gift would be able to ward off anything Elsa can concoct.

"Are your men ready to do their part?"

"Don't pretend that we haven't done this kind of thing before, little prince," Gilaro responds with some spite. "We will do our part for as long as you do yours."

Hans takes another moment to glance at the strange trinket given to him. Some time ago he would've told anyone that they are foolish for even believing in sorcery, tales of magical creatures, dragons, and so on but seeing what Elsa was capable of and then these foreigners and their capabilities and the strange world that they vaguely described to him… for Hans to not even consider the idea would be asinine especially when there seems to be a lot of things that would be to his benefit. Exacting revenge is one of those said benefits and that on its own is a good enough incentive.

"I know what I have to do," Hans retorts with as much confidence in his voice as he is feeling, "it's all I thought about while I rotted in that dungeon."

The words were simple but it served the purpose. With that said, Hans grips the amulet tightly as he watches Elsa's ship get closer to its destination while his other hand is resting pompously on the hilt of his sword as it remains sheathed on his waist. Perhaps there will be a time where he will be able to use it; he can only hope.

The docking process is always one of the longest parts for Elsa. The destination is in place and yet one isn't allowed to just step out because certain preparations have to be made. Part of her wishes she can just flaunt herself and use her own means to get to the said destination, but being conservative is what she must be. Arendelle might be used to seeing their Queen create ice and snow as pretty much anything she wishes for it to do, but to a 'neighboring' kingdom of the south it might be a different story altogether. Things are indeed no longer familiar. Visually, this part of the Southern Isles is already different from Arendelle; being one of the smaller islands that make up Christian's kingdom, Elsa is a bit taken back that it would be here that they would hold their trials and such. Though customs are different as well and Elsa can't think too much on those said difference since she has far more pressing issues to be contemplating on like how she would start her speech, how well she should articulate her words so that Hans' crimes will be felt, and of course just how much emotion she should put into her statements so she would be taken as a Queen and not as an emotionally scorned woman.

"Queen Elsa," An Arendelle Guard bows to her as she prepares to takes her few steps off the ship, "please let us accompany you."

With a pleasant smile, Elsa shakes her head, answering with the same reply as earlier when he had asked.

"I appreciate your concern, Marius, but I believe I'll have to decline as I did earlier."

"Your Majesty… y-you know my name?"

"You think I do not make an effort to know the brave men who serve me?" Elsa responds with the same smile as she stares at Marius' eyes. "That would be cold hearted and unfitting for a Queen. And forgive me if I'm mistaken, your eldest is also training to be one of my guards, correct?"

"Y-Yes… My Queen."

"Good. I'm honored to have him protect me one day."

"My Queen," Marius bows once more with a bit more exuberance to the way he shows his respect, "you are too kind."

Elsa nods her head and walks pass Marius letting her cloak decorate the path behind her. Straight ahead of her are two armored men who are obviously serving King Christian and most likely there to escort her to where she needs to go. Though before she took another step towards them, Elsa tilts her head so that she would have a view of Marius who still keeps his head low as a sign of respect.

"You don't need to feel guilty, Marius."

"Queen Elsa?"

"You volunteered to help find my sister and in turn you followed Hans into my ice castle," Marius' shock is written all over his face. He was one of the guards that followed Hans wholeheartedly in their attempt to 'rescue' Anna during the Eternal Winter and he remembers that event as if it just happened yesterday, and apparently so does Elsa. "You were serving Arendelle, and for that I thank you."

"Hans… deceived us all, Queen Elsa."

"He did. Now he is paying for his crimes."

"Indeed. Though you'll have to forgive me, my Queen, when I tell you that I'll only feel better once you tell the King of Southern Isles to give Hans a fitting punishment for his travesty."

All of Arendelle has the right to be furious at Hans. Of course Anna and Elsa have all the right to wish him death for what he has done. But the right to do something isn't always the right thing to do and for Elsa, she truly just wants to leave the past where it belongs. All she wants is to move forward and never look back at the times before and during the Eternal Winter ordeal. Though the other side of her; the _darker_ side of her concurs with Marius' conviction. That part of her _wishes_ she would be the one to execute him in ways no one has ever seen before.

_The reflection. The sinister look on her face as she reached out towards herself. The apparition. The darker side of her. The cold sensation that she felt as her reflection moved. _

"I will do my best."

Elsa shakes the reverie off and answered Marius with as much compassion as she can. With those words, she finally takes the last steps off of her ship and into the soil of a foreign land. Elsa isn't sure why but the gravity of stepping off of her own 'comfort' really sinks in in a way that is far more dramatic than she would like to admit. Though she quickly retains her composure for her escorts are now upon her ready to lead her to the business she came here to attend to.

"I am-"

"Queen Elsa," The guard of course would already know her name and he doesn't wait to even let her introduce herself, "follow me."

If Elsa was at all into her royalty as much as other monarchs were, this guard would've probably felt a bit colder in this bright summer day for the lack of respect in both the way he spoke and just the over all vibe he lets off. Though Elsa knows that her being here isn't about bickering with a disrespectful guard so she follows him without any words. Turning around one last time, Elsa notices that the other guard is staying by the ship as if making sure _nothing_ peculiar is happening inside Arendelle property; as if her soldiers would do anything to dishonor the Arendelle name, but precautions on King Christian's part isn't something Elsa would frown upon entirely, so she turns her head forward once again. For now she focuses on the route and the environment of this particular island. If she is able to put her mind away from the fact that she is here for a serious matter, Elsa could probably spend more time scrutinizing the details. It's something she finds enamoring. The moment they landed and docked, they were greeted by the greenery that can easily be seen through the clear waters of the shallow end. Walking on the bridge, Elsa takes a moment to peek downwards and smiles at the water as it meets the sand, and the sand meeting the main land where the greenery takes over. One can fathom that it would be a luscious tall green-filled island if it weren't for the man made modifications all over in the form of aesthetic land marks that the guard soon leads Elsa to.

"Beautiful," Elsa finally says as they come across a garden that has maze like patterns between the structures that are built around it. "Your land, it's beautiful."

The guard says nothing and Elsa half expected him to be as 'entertaining' as he has been. Shaking her head, Elsa decides to keep studying the artwork of this land. The backdrop certainly does not meet the context of why Elsa is here in this meeting place; and speaking of meeting place, past the aesthetics of the garden's path, Elsa spots a structure, a gazebo of some sort big enough to house a few people for a formal meeting or fancy meals. A figure sits inside and Elsa can't help but feel something inside of her that beckons her to turn back. Taking a deep breath and admonishing herself for thinking like a child instead of a Queen, Elsa keeps moving forward as the guard quickens his pace and eventually walks to the side of the figure who is sitting on a royal chair; his back turned towards Elsa which she finds rather odd especially when her arrival is obviously known. One would think this meeting would have a lot more 'warm welcome' behind it considering the business they have to discuss. Trying not to give the lack of proper salutations anymore thought, Elsa stops just a few inches from the small steps leading to the main floor of the gazebo. Taking a deep breath after what seemed like for the hundredth time, Elsa bows her head to adhere to the notion of respect.

"I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle," Her voice almost squeaked at the first word. "I am here under King Christian's request."

"So proper, Elsa," The moment the person spoke, Elsa couldn't help but skip a heartbeat. It wasn't the person she expected to greet her. "And you're not wearing your fancy dress either. I'm flattered, you remembered what you were wearing the very first time we met."

"Hans….!"

His voice is all too recognizable to Elsa even before he stands and faces her. Elsa feels a very heavy drop in her stomach from the sight of the man whom she thought was behind bars and was ready to meet his sentence.

"Oh I know, I didn't reciprocate the sentiment by wearing what I wore the day of your coronation," Not that Elsa was paying attention to his attire until Hans mentioned it, but she notices something peculiar about the rustic leather armor he is wearing. It may be simple in design but to Elsa, it seems to be letting out a small but potent enough energy for her to feel. "But unlike you, the cold bothers me. I need to keep myself warm just in case… you lash out."

The few steps back she has taken doesn't completely deter the grime that Hans lets off every word he speaks. Narrowing her eyes as Hans takes his first small steps towards her, Elsa aims her right palm to her side and within seconds, the colossal form of 'Marshmallow' appears, ready to protect its creator. Hans stops in his tracks looking at the beast who steps in front of Elsa.

"Really? I've already beaten this one before, Elsa. You've had that long to practice and you still come up with the same thing?"

The haggard look Hans may have due to what Elsa assumes is from his months of captivity doesn't entirely concur with his pompous tone. Though Elsa is happy to oblige his request by summoning another beast that is identical to the first one she created.

"Is that enough for you, Hans?" While her beasts stands in front of her, Elsa makes it known that she is still willing to fight by letting her ice powers emanate from her bare hands. "I could create more, but I'd prefer if your brother would recognize you when I bring you back to him."

"Oh but that's just it Elsa," Hans' hand reaches for something and Elsa expected it to be the sword hanging on his waist, "I'm not in the mood to go back to prison. And you need a moment to enjoy the warm summer heat. Snow in July is just so clichéd!"

In his hand is some sort of trinket that seems to pose no threat. Though the moment it omits a glow, Elsa knew that it is more than what it seems so she acts and so does her constructs, yet the reaction is short lived as an unknown energy passes through her causing her to stumble back; it wasn't painful at all but somehow it distorted everything that Elsa is accustomed to in regards to her body; a strange feeling nonetheless but something she tries not to mind. Looking up at Hans who is still holding up the trinket, she points her right hand at his direction and…

"Nothing," Hans' word narrated what came out of her hand. "So it's true. These people hold powers beyond the mystery of your 'curse', Elsa."

Elsa gave very little attention to what Hans was saying as she finds herself staring at her hands that are not accumulating any ice. The appalling revelation doesn't stop there as she sees her constructs not moving and losing their form quickly due to the exposure from the sun. Then the aesthetic ice crown that adorns her head melts as well and drenches her hair leaving her even more disdained and utterly confused. With eyes wide of shock and fear, Elsa turns her attention back to Hans.

"W-What…? What have you…!?"

"Done to you?" With the situation to his favor, Hans decides to take a few more steps forward, walking pass the melting colossus that were once created to do him harm. "I'm not exactly sure really, but from what I was told it's magic that can take away your precious ice powers and it did."

In disbelief, Elsa tries fervently to make something with her hands. Normally with just a thought something ice and snow would respond; when in an emotional duress, her powers will react for her and create a storm around her, freeze the ground, or something, but alas nothing comes out. By now her hair is dripping wet from her 'crown' melting completely and her bodyguards are falling to pieces while Hans keeps advancing and his lone guard also made his move to take a few steps forward.

"This should be the part where you give up, Elsa. I can promise you that it will be easier that way."

The dread sinks in with every step Hans takes and it's pretty obvious through Elsa's expression that she understands the gamut of her predicament. Not entirely too keen on giving in to Hans, Elsa only has one true option prominent in her mind: to run. As fast as she can, Elsa turns and runs the opposite direction, back towards her ship where she can get some aid from her guards and journey back to Arendelle where perhaps Hans' enchantment won't have influence on her.

"This is the stupid way Elsa!"

Hans calls out which doesn't deter Elsa from pursuing her intent. As fast as her legs can take her, Elsa runs through the gardens, cursing what she once thought were aesthetically beautiful with the zigzag patterns and the intricate placing of the structures. With fear pulsing with every heartbeat, Elsa isn't able to comprehend her grounds and she stumbles and falls on her front. The pain she feels is immediate but she dares not lick her wound and as quickly as she can she gets up and continues running towards her ship. Thankfully the path wasn't 'long' and she paid close attention to her surroundings as the guard was leading her to the trap. The ship is in view and Elsa can take a small solace that at least she will have some help with her powers not present. Though the moment of reprieve is taken away as her eyes manage to catch the horror of the scene in front of her. Some of Elsa's royal guards are lying on the ground lifeless, bloody, and some even desecrated. Arrows sticking out of one as he lies on his back with eyes still wide open but his mouth no longer drawing breath, another one seemed to have had his throat cut as blood had stained the ground that he is lying on, there's another who seems to be missing part of his limbs and Elsa can only gather that the bloody arm and feet not too far away are his. There were more but Elsa can only take so much that she bothers not to scrutinize every gory detail. Completely appalled, Elsa takes a few steps back rather clumsily; her body still heavily influenced by the visceral scene that is laid out in front of her.

"Q-Qu..Queen….. El..sa…"

Amidst the fray of blood and gore, a movement catches Elsa's attention along with a voice that insinuates death. One of the guards is still alive even if hanging by a moment and as quickly as she can, Elsa runs to the guard. To her dismay, she soon realizes that it's none other than Marius.

"Marius?! Heavens… what… what happened here?!"

She lowers herself so that she can somehow find a way to save him with what little she knows on how to tend to someone. Though even with her minor knowledge, she knows that a gaping hole on his chest as big as the one he has bodes ill for survival. Any attempt she makes to move him or touch him will probably cause more agony and damage so she remains where she is despite wanting nothing more than to be able to do something for her fallen guard.

"P-Please… get… get.. out… of-"

While he can't fully speak, his eyes say it all. His concern for his Queen is still his priority despite the agonizing pain he is feeling. Elsa's eyes starts to water from a myriad of emotions rushing at her; her hands shaking frantically and her words unable to form before she can pin them down to speak. Then in a moment's notice, the image becomes even more mortifying as something strikes him right through his skull, ending his life immediately right in front of Elsa.

"Marius…!" An arrow with a dead on accuracy claimed his life and Elsa knows it. The said arrow still sticking out of his head as blood starts to drain out of his lifeless face. In denial, in shock, and absolutely petrified, Elsa calls his name one more time as tears starts to pour out of her eyes profusely.

"Easier meant you didn't have to get blood on you," Hans saunters forward with his guard behind him. "Lower your crossbow, we don't want to hurt the Queen remember?"

"Why…?" Barely able to make out the words, Elsa turns to Hans' direction who keeps the sardonic look on his face. Tears streaming down her cheeks, adding to the horrifying look of having blood in her face due to the shot from Hans' bodyguard that killed Marius mere moments ago. "WHY?!"

"The only thing you need to know is that you **_have_** to come with me."

"And…. If I… refuse?"

Like he is disappointed at a child, Hans shakes his head before replying. "Then I think my friends over there will have a lot of fun doing what they did here in Arendelle."

Hans gestures his head towards the ship that was once Elsa's. A quick glance towards that direction, Elsa can see a group of people who are obviously responsible for this bloodshed. Their faces filled with glee from the dejecting sight that it almost made them inhuman from where Elsa is.

"And if you refuse," Hans crouches down so that his face would be leveled with Elsa, "I'll get you on that ship one way or another anyways and for the inconvenience, we'll make a detour to Arendelle so you can watch while we slaughter every person that are under your rule. And personally, I would like to see how Anna is doing."

**To. Be. Continued.**


	4. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen I

I'll admit to myself that I had nothing planned before this. Actually, if one can say that staying at Proudspire Manor and taking a gander at the collection of my armors and weapons displayed, and perhaps getting the chance to lie down for the first time in what seems like a long time as 'nothing', then that is what my day would've consisted of: _nothing_. I had no qualms with the idea of '_nothing'_ since lately it's been dragon after dragon, request after request, assassination after assassination, and some old face wanting to meet me for some peculiar reason. Life of a Dragonborn is what Kharjo would say at this moment and I would roll my eyes as a response. Though one can surmise that my life could be worse and I would say that being inside the Blue Palace with these noble-types just made it so.

"Welcome, Dragonborn," High Queen Elisif used to be so fragile in her role, but I suppose the years have been kind to her. I can't fathom just how much the Empire squeezed their fingers on her to get her to have some sort of command presence. "I speak for everyone when I say it is a fine day with you around. Thank you very much for coming in such short notice."

Such short notice she said. I bow my head slightly just to reciprocate the 'respect' that I need to somewhat uphold. Though her words doesn't necessarily reflect the ambiance I am feeling from her Housecarl Bolgeir Bearclaw who seems to be staring me down with as much intimidation as he can let off. There was more than enough times I wanted to react kindly to his demeanors that he has and continues to give me but Solitude happens to be one of the places I keep my wares and spoils; being wanted in one of the bigger houses that I own wouldn't be the best way to live even for me so with that I ignore him as I have in the past. Then again, this whole thing is an ignoring game to me since the rest of Elisif's company doesn't exactly suit well to my liking and the feelings are mutual. Falk Firebeard who is standing close to Elisif's side continues to whisper things in her ear as if to instruct her or perhaps spreading gossip about me while his eyes burning at my direction as his 'beard' name implies. I wouldn't mind piercing my blade into his gut for all the slander he has thrown at my direction.

"I am sure you are wondering why you were summoned, Dragonborn?" As soon as Falk peels his whispering lips away from her ears, Elisif speaks to me again.

"I guessed it had something to do with sweet rolls." I don't change my posture or my demeanor but such sarcasm evokes a subtle growl from Bolgeir. Again, I'm not his favorite person in Skyrim.

"That would be a lovely change, wouldn't it?" Pacifism tone from the High Queen as if trying to settle down her Housecarl through her words without saying so. "First and foremost I would like to personally congratulate you and extend my gratitude on slaying another Dragon that threatened Morthal a few days ago. The people of Skyrim always appreciate such valiant acts. You may have banished Alduin yet his kin still remains and your constant perseverance to slay these beasts is comforting as it is inspiring."

_Inspiring_ she says, _comforting_ she says. Sighing audibly through my helmet, I speak to respond to her ever so motivating speech.

"Do you get praise for sleeping, High Queen?" The tangent struck Elisif and everyone else rather oddly.

"Excuse me, Dragonborn?" Her words mirror the faces on Falk and Bolgeir.

"When you sleep, do you get congratulated? When you put a slice of venison in your mouth do your servants clap their hands? For every step you take does your Housecarl prance around like a jester? With every word you utter, does your steward sing exuberantly for hearing your voice?"

"What madness is this?!" Bolgier growls, cutting off Elisif. "Does your audacity know no bounds?!"

"Bolgeir, please." Like a dog on a collar, Bolgier slightly calms his posture at his Queen's words despite the 'growl' still evident in his face. If only he can see my grin under my helmet. "Dragonborn, I apologize if I do not see the point to your questions."

"Are my questions too difficult for the High Queen of Skyrim? Should I address this matter to your steward over there?"

Again the room tenses up and even Falk joins the show of anger through his fists clenching. Elisif on the other hand tries to adhere to the serene environment that she is trying to uphold.

"No, Dragonborn. I do not get any praise for any of those. Why do you ask?"

"To me slaying a dragon is the equivalent of you taking a step, eating, sleeping, and breathing. I do not _need_ nor _want_ your praise when clearly it's just a masquerade for the real reason why I am here. You need something from me, so say it without trying to cajole me. I would greatly appreciate it if you do not squander my time."

"That's it!" Bolgeir pulls his blade out of its sheathe causing the rest of the guards to change their stance. Their ambivalence taking a hold of them as they are unsure whether to concur with the Housecarl's abrupt decision or to wait for an order. My hand barely lingering towards Muramasa. "I will not stand by and listen to you insult our Queen! Watch your tongue or-"

"I am watching my tongue," I respond quickly. "If I spoke as I wanted to, you would've already been in pieces."

I have been calm even as his blade is pointed at my direction, though I remain vigilant with every soldier who has his hand on the hilt of his blade. I pay attention to Elisif's movements; I even notice Falk's posture trying desperately to signal Bolgier to stop. This could truly turn for the worse.

"Bolgier, I am angered as you are but you know what you must uphold!" Falk speaks finally. "We do not need anymore stains of blood on the walls or on the banners above us."

I take note of the said banners that are hanging proudly over the Queen. The symbol of Solitude: the Wolf. There was a time when I myself held true to this banner because of _what I was_… that was a long time ago. Times have changed and so have I. Speaking of changes, Bolgier finally makes his decision and sheathes his blade. The guards followed not too long after and once again we are back to the peaceful meeting as Elisif had planned from the beginning. Peaceful, minus the glaring eyes of both Bolgier and Falk.

"Would it be too much if I asked you to take your helmet off, Dragonborn?"

"Yes," That's not the first time she had asked me to do that and the response remains the same. "It would be too much."

"Very well," Taking a deep breath as if trying to calm herself down, Elisif continues. "The people of Skyrim are concerned with the rumors of Sigil Stones appearing once again. I do not think I need to lecture you on what Sigil Stones means two hundred years ago, Dragonborn?"

"I am aware. Though I have no time to travel to Kvatch and seek out a champion."

"I apologize if you misconstrued. No one is asking you to travel to Cyrodiil, we are only asking you to-"

I knew what the request entailed and obviously my sarcasm flew pass the High Queen.

"Close shut the jaws of Oblivion, correct?"

"If one appears and if that is what it must take, then I suppose that is what the people of Skyrim is asking you."

"The people of Skyrim," I scoff. "I have lived my destiny. Alduin is banished, dead in my eyes. He won't come frolicking this way for another lifetime. If some Daedric god wants to invade, isn't it time for another champion to rise up to the occasion?"

"Do you truly believe that your power was only meant for Alduin's exile? Can you not see the value of it past the world eater, Dragonborn?"

To me this has been a conversation I have had with my comrades. In fact, this is almost a mirror conversation that Serana and I had not too long ago and truthfully, it is getting on my nerves. As if people truly have the right to scrutinize my fate as if they are well aware of what it is. Shaking my head before shrugging my shoulder, I respond.

"When time permits I will take a gander at these Sigil Stone ordeals and see if there are any truths to them aside from attracting dragons. In the mean time, just pray to the nine or to whoever that another hero is born that would suit your needs since I am not that person," I let those words linger for a bit before finishing my sentence. "Nor do I care to be that person you all prayed and wished for. I have done my deeds and have saved far more people than any of your soldiers combined and for me, that's more than enough to take me off the list of being everyone's go-to distress reliever."

Turning around, I take a few steps towards the dual stairs that would soon lead me out of this place that I try my very best to avoid. Though before I am able to take the left stairs, Elisif speaks over the murmurs of her steward, Housecarl, and Thanes.

"You would truly abandon the need of many because of your own selfish desires?"

I remain still for a moment staring at the chandelier hanging on the ceiling with the light shining from the large window above it; the image of the said light adding a special affect to the idea that I truly need to walk away from this conversation. Almost like a sign of some sort. I should just walk away.

"The power of one man cannot save you all." And there I am trying to get the last word.

"No Dragonborn, he can't," The High Queen responds almost immediately. "But he can at least provide some hope for the people."

The Masque of Clavicus Vile hides the astonishment etched in my face as Elisif said those words. Perhaps Serana and the High Queen converse about me since that is almost verbatim of what Serana said to me some time ago? Doubtful. As it is the rumors of me sleeping with the Vampiress is an atrocious thing for anyone to indulge. As if it is a rumor. Then again it's half a rumor since the vampires, lady or man _does not _sleep. Shaking those thoughts off, I decide that taking this conversation a step further would not be in my best interest. I have already wasted enough time with enough pettiness and perpetuating it would only mean I am part of the problem so I descend down the stairs ignoring the next few words Bolgeir and Falk tells the High Queen. As I reach the bottom of the stairs the maid Erdi nods at me as I make way towards the door, probably thinking of another way of asking me to be her 'knight' or something, though I gave her no response back then as I won't today. My mind is set on taking my leave of this place. Pushing both doors open, I finally find myself back into the open air of Solitude. The sun blazing up high eliciting a cringe from me as I step out of the castle's protection and into the courtyard. Never was the biggest fan of daylight for a myriad of reasons. The guards turn their heads at my direction giving me slight acknowledgements despite two of them probably have less than respectable expressions about me underneath their helmets. Walking further into this detestable sunny day and finally exiting the castle grounds completely, I am greeted once again by the view of the larger houses of Solitude. The house I call home in Solitude, Proudpire Manor, stands as one of the taller buildings to my right along with the Bards College that is directly right next to it; yes I have a school as my neighbor, though they don't bother me. Then again, I don't stay at one place for a long duration since I am always travelling all across Skyrim for one reason or another so the neighbors are almost strangers to me. Though today it's going to be Proudspire Manor for the night. That is the place of my destination and I intend to take the stroll as calm and as serene as I can to try and alleviate the annoyance of the day.

Taking note of the children running through the long straight path, I slightly smile to myself as they hold their wooden swords and make pretend they are fighting. The girl and the boy clashing with their make believe weapons, laughing, and 'shouting'. They see me coming towards their way and they wave at me with glee; both the Nord and the Breton child completely unaware of what their parents gossip about me, which keeps their 'fantasy' about me alive. I am a hero of Skyrim and I will continue to be… at least that's what I think they tell their children. It's strange that they find nothing peculiar about an ebony clad man with a Daedra helmet as the 'savior' of Skyrim. With all the sincerity I can muster, I wave back to the children as I continue my stroll towards my house. Perhaps this will be a peaceful day.

Suddenly the sky lets out an ear-piercing scream and when my ebony mail starts to omit the black smoke of Boethiah's blessing, I am more than aware that it wasn't the sky that let out that sound. I already knew what did the moment I heard it, but I was hoping it wasn't so. The children already knew as well and they react accordingly. The Breton boy drops his play sword and screams as he runs towards his house. The Nord girl however stays despite the fear laced in her posture. She may be attentive of the Dragon that is flying towards Solitude's direction, but her eyes are on me. A silent cheer from a little girl who still sees me as a hero, I suppose. I stare at her for a few moments before her father scoops her up and runs for cover; brave little girl. While the adults scurry in fear, she would've stayed and watch the 'hero' act as she heard I would. The hero… what an odd title for me.

"Muramasa," I mutter more to myself than my blade. Who would talk to their blade anyways? "Our journey never ends, does it?"

With that said, I run towards the exit, passing my manor. There will be another time for frivolous tasks but as of right now the dragon is my main priority. For the soldiers of solitude who were tending to their daily tasks on the training ground, their weapons are also ready even though I know they are highly depending on me for this task. Lucky for them I don't think the dragon won't be interested in causing havoc in Solitude; the testament of my inner assumption is that it flies over us and doesn't even mind the arrows flying from the archers who of course don't hit it. I'm sure the soldiers are relieved of that, though for me, it's another 'must do' to absorb another soul. Convinced that I need to slay another dragon in the timespan of less than a day, I keep running. I could summon Arvak but not exactly fitting for an undead horse with so many of the normal folks around. With that said, I decide to take the faster way and jump over the ledge in front of the blacksmith's building and landing with finesse despite the sound of my ebony armor clanking rather loudly from the sudden impact. Taking off with speed, I pass Solitude's most famous market and its local bar until finally I find myself pushing the gates open not paying attention to the guards who are uttering a myriad of things; probably some blessing from one of the nines or some nonsensical cheer that would not benefit my cause. Finally being able to conjure Arvak, I quickly jump on his back and the moment I do, the undead horse gallops with speed that no other horse of Skyrim can match.

For the most part Arvak is keen to my needs so taking advantage of this perk, I load Avarice with a bolt for the long range battle that will most likely ensue. Taking the left on the road, Arvak and I pass Katla's Farm and continue through the bridge over East Company Warehouse, staying as close to the Dragon's trail as much as we can. The beast is taking no interest in landing and I can't fathom as to why. Dragons these days have had more than enough 'need' to terrorize and this one is not concurring to that pattern. Then another screeching wail breaks through the clear skies and another dragon flies pass me and towards the direction where the first one heads. I raise a brow under my helmet with this scenario. If I can get lucky with the two of them landing, I can once again debate with two dragons at the same time; it has been a while since that joy has come my way. Urging Arvak, we speed through once again, his fiery hooves leaving tracks of purple fire as he lets out a snort. Though through my experience, no matter how fast my steed will go, a dragon's flight will prove difficult to match so this will be a matter of chasing it down until the two of them finds an incentive to step foot into solid ground. Though as the chase goes on and I start to map out the beasts' route, I come to the disappointing realization that they are heading towards the area where Solitude Lighthouse stands and that leads to the ocean. Me chasing them through the vastness of the water won't end on my best interest for a few reasons. The dragons themselves are now well off into the distance anyway so perhaps they are just like the others who just wander, contemplating if they should follow what Alduin started or to be at peace like Paarthunax… It's a usual thought process whenever I find myself wasting time chasing a dragon and they just fly off into the distance.

Though remaining in that thought is completely deterred as a ship catches my attention that is docked close to the location of the Lighthouse. While it's not exactly odd for a ship to use this dock, I am more used to seeing ragged and worn down ships like the Dainty Sload instead of something so… regal and almost enchanted. As Arvak takes slow steps towards its direction, I am able to make out more of its structure and its banners…. Truly foreign. While I am not the most knowledgeable when it comes to Tamriel, I do know most of the symbols or at least will have a vague idea of its existence, and this ship with its flower like crest bordered by a snowflake of some sort is truly something I have not seen before. Though it's not a far-fetched notion that they are a new guild making their mark and it just so happens they picked Skyrim. Then a sound catches my attention completely. Something direr.

A strained string of a bow is released from its tension and an arrow makes it way towards me with the intent to kill. As quick as it came my way, I caught the arrow with the tip mere inches away from my face. Turning my full attention towards the one who shot it, I smirk and fired back with my crossbow; hitting the sneaking archer right on his head and watching him as he falls from his hiding place lifelessly.

"It's him!" As I have guessed, the archer wasn't alone. "It's really him!"

From the sound of the voice, the mercenary is an Argonian and he just gave me his location with the desperate warning. Or perhaps he is leading me to a trap, which is all the better. Regardless my whisper manages to see through the terrain and I am able to see a handful of auras that are reacting to the Argonian's warning. I can make out weapons being drawn as they prepare themselves while, others are starting to scatter, then there is a particular group running away… an odd color for an aura emanating from one of them… not like the others at all. _Strange_. With a gesture to Arvak, I ride forward and get to a vantage point where I am able to get a view of my assailants: A band of mercenaries and thieves who made the Lighthouse their headquarters of some sort. Their numbers are great and from the looks of it, the majority are staying to give me a fight while some are trying to retreat; eyes are gawking at my direction especially from … a captive… woman... she is the one with the strange aura.

"Do not let him pass!"

A mage commands as he steps in front of the captive, which of course the mercenaries comply with their weapons drawn and arrows starting to fly at my direction. Arvak stands on his hind legs and lets out a battle cry despite the arrows striking him; the said gesture is more or less an intimidation factor before he complies with my train of thought and that is to attack! With hooves digging into the snow, Arvak and I tread forward, avoiding the fray of arrows and destruction spells. To make things easier to reach my goal, I conjure a Familiar bathed in fire and a Seeker; immediately the two obeys with the wolf exploding when in range, sending a few of them in disarray, while the Seeker starts letting out its spells, which also sends their ranks in chaos. With Muramasa unsheathed, the red blade lets out a hungry glow as I reach my first enemy who was trying fervently to fire another arrow but my blade ended his attempt real quickly as well as his life. Arvak shifts himself to the right and evades a few attacks, but it also puts me open for some archers and with this in mind, I jump off Arvak, flipping to the right and letting the undead horse keep moving forward and right into the enemies. His undead flames sending some of them in frenzy as he rushes through their ranks. By now the close range fighters are upon me, a Khajiit tries with his dual blades but his speed doesn't exactly save him and it took less than two moves to plunge my blade through his leather armor. Using his dying body as a shield, an axe hacks at him, evoking a snarl of pain as his own comrade struck him. Shoving him away and sending him crashing to a couple of coming assailants; the next few are relentless with blades and blunt weapons swinging in all directions as if that tactic will have any sort of success. While the majority I merely push away with Muramasa, some just lack any real intent of hitting… they just swing their weapons and for that my blade _disarms_ them permanently.

"I've done it!" An Orc by the Lighthouse calls as his war hammer had created a crater on the ground. "I killed the Dragonborn's steed!"

There is some humor to take in this Orc's stupidity about the situation and I would entertain it by calling on the undead horse once more and watching his eyes widen as my steed tramples him with ease. While he might be bones and a sign of death, Arvak still has the muscle of a normal horse with immortality and strangely enough, he remembers everything that happens to him before he goes back to the plane of Soul Ciarn or _dies_; A bad way for the Orc to die as Arvak continues to stomp on him with his flaming hooves. The entertainment has to end however as another sword wielder comes charging in with his mind set on my death, though I respond with my own conviction as I drive my blade through his steel armor and immediately feeding Muramasa yet another soul.

"Deal with that atrocity!" The mage calls out again as the Seeker I have summoned are keeping most of the mages busy. "You kill that one and its doppelganger will die!"

The creatures are detestable in battle as they are in appearance; though when they fight by your side, it's very useful and it can cause enough strain even in the most adept mages. Having the ability to duplicate itself, I'd say it has done its fair share of damage with the decoration of mages on the ground who are either unable to utter another spell or close to death. The whole entire lot is actually adorned with carcasses, blood, and a trail of severed hands and arms thanks to my doing. With most of their numbers depleted, I can take a moment to feel their despair as mages, archers, and warriors are slowly losing their momentum of attack. Except for the fact that another bolt flies at my direction, which I barely avoided with a tilt of my head.

"He's just one man!" One of them calls. "There are more than a dozen of us!"

Either he is a complete fool and do not abide by the whole 'reputation-precedes-you' notion, or he has lived in a part of Tamriel where no news of the outside world comes to him. I might want to lean on innocence since he is holding his crossbow with such a pompous stance that I'm not entirely sure what else to think. His lips curved in a wicked grin and his green eyes has a slight glow to them.

"Hans you fool! Stay with the Queen and get out of here!" The Queen? The captive is a Queen? "We will cover you!"

The Dunmer Mage is for certain the one in charge of this concerto of Mercenaries so perhaps keeping him alive for information would be prudent unlike this one I just beheaded for a foolish attempt of a preemptive attack after that man with the red sideburns took a shot at me. The Queen he says… before she was forcefully ushered, she and I made eye contact… her eyes… whatever she was trying to say through the cloth that is stifling her voice….

A barrage of destruction spells coming right at me and it's in the moment of evasion I decide that I need to get to that woman… The Seeker follows my thought and causes another disarray in the mages' line giving me enough room to maneuver. With a shout that causes me to sprint faster than the wind, I aim to plunge my blade at that arrogant man named Hans who is forcing the captive to wherever they are intending to go with the Lighthouse compromised. Though the Dunmer is trying his best to make sure that a linear path will not be possible as he places a rune just before the moment of contact. Clever tactic and with my speed I almost stepped on it; but because of my speed I am able to feign to the side avoiding it but not completely. The gust of wind from my movement alarmed the rune and it lets out a shattering force that causes me to stumble slightly. The force had a wide enough trajectory that it causes Hans to falter a few steps forward, landing painfully on the ground and leaving the woman to fall on her side, a few feet away from him. Despite the shock that spell caused, the woman tries fervently to get to her feet. Of course with her hands bound behind her and that long cloak….

The cloak and the symbol on it… even from this far I can tell the design and the material is not Skyrim's… the floral insignia matches some of the ones I saw in the ship …

"Get her!"

"Gilaro that was a stupid move!"

I shook myself out of my reverie and immediately rush to the woman and pull her to her feet, ignoring her pleas through the gag as I shove her behind me. I gave myself too much time on thinking… gave them too much time to recover. Hans is now on his feet with his crossbow in his hands, the Dunmer Gilaro is holding his staff towards me, the rest of mercenaries are regrouping, surrounding us, and the ones who aren't bothering with me is hacking away at the Seeker as it pierces a Breton mage with one of its tentacle. Soon that Seeker will disperse and it will leave this woman and I to to fend off the rest of her captors.

"Uhununn uh uhnn... gnm Huhnh!"

I tilt my head so that I am giving the woman some attention as she tries to speak…. The Seeker is spent and I was mistaken in my previous thoughts: It's up to me to fend off her captors while she tries and let out nonsensical demands through the gag.

"He's just one man!" This Hans person reaffirms his stupidity as he speaks once again. "Why are you all standing around and gawking at him! He is getting in the way!"

"Then shoot him, pretty!" The Argonian with a mace and shield replies to my liking. "You just keep talking like you have something to actually help the situation."

"ENOUGH!"

"If your men are too scared, then…"

Hans doesn't finish his sentence because his finger pulls the trigger. The bolt is aimed right at my head and I have to admit in this moment where time slowed down, this Hans has some accuracy and fortitude. Though he is as I have said: stupid and stupidity deserves some admonishing. From the top of my lungs I shout with an Unrelenting Force and those who are in range are caught in its wake; suffice it to say, that bolt is no longer a threat as well as some of my assailants. Bodies flying like ragdolls, those who have enchantments on their armor are staggered, some mages are able to put up a ward to help aid them in their footing, but the result is affective and the enemies are once again left in a mess. The added perk to the result is that the annoying Hans is nowhere in the picture and is probably one of the few who took flight from the shout's power. The Dunmer Gilaro is still left, two mages, and about four more melee warriors. The battle is now over.

_A cold wind_.

A power surges behind me and I instinctively turn around with Muramasa ready but to my astonishment, the hostage is somehow glowing with an enchanted light. Somehow she had managed to rip her bindings off and the cloth over her mouth follows. Those eyes scintillating in an ice blue glow and with a gesture of her hand, the patterns on the lower part of her dress shines and from there the light pervades upward. Like magical snow is slithering up her form, her dress starts to change drastically and the dark toned attire vanishes. Her sleeves lets off a radiance as she flicks her wrists… her cloak disappears and is replaced by a transparent cape that is glamorously decorated by the same symbol I have seen on the banners of the boat…. I watched this whole thing… I actually found myself standing still for a moment… her face calm before she opens her eyes with a burning determination. For a moment we locked eyes again before I realize she was looking pass me and towards Gilaro's direction.

For some reason the enemies were also _frozen_ in place like I…

This is magic I haven't seen or felt before…. And with a swagger of her hips from left to right, she walks pass me… her fists glowing like the hailstorms of the highest mountains of Skyrim. Whoever she is or whatever she is… at this given moment, _that helpless girl is gone_.

**To Be Continued.**


	5. Elsa: The Storm Within

It wasn't too long ago when Elsa found her private room to be a place of solace for the journey she took. Not that her royal guards were an annoyance, it was just that there were certain emotions Elsa wanted to keep to herself since she does have to uphold a certain presence around her subjects. Though this room no longer has any sort of comfort for her since it is now her prison thanks to Hans and the vile men that he allied himself with. Having been forced to sit on her own chair through the use of ropes on her wrists and ankles, Elsa has no real way to look over her window and know what is going on outside her own ship or much more know where they are going. She is indeed as they have made her: a prisoner of her own ship.

Deciding that her breather should suffice for now, Elsa starts to work on her bonds again, straining herself against the vice like grip of the ropes that holds her hands hostage behind the chair. Elsa had given up on her ankles that are also tautly secured, focusing on her hands would probably gain her the proper freedom she needs to somehow find some comfort in this bleak situation. Yet just like before, writhing against the coarse ropes does nothing but agitate her and get nowhere closer to freedom. With that said, her struggling only lasted a few moments before she gives in, sulking on the chair with a defeated posture.

"Your Majesty," the sound of Hans' voice and the insulting knock on her door causes Elsa to focus her attention towards the said door, "may I come in?"

If Hans hadn't gagged her, Elsa would probably be yelling obscenities at his direction as he enters. Though of course having yelled through the cloth over her mouth for such a time now had rendered her voice hoarse as it is. Growling through the gag and glowering at his direction is probably the only thing she can do at the moment.

"I figured you could use something to drink while you sit comfortably on your throne, My Queen."

In his hand is a silver tray with two cups and a pitcher; Elsa can only wonder what is in the container, though anything to hydrate her would be gladly accepted. Watching him intently as he sets the items on a table nearby, Hans takes it upon himself to pour himself a drink and gulps it down right in front of her. With narrowed eyes, Elsa proceeds to talk through her gag with as much hatred as she can.

"This drink needs a bit of cold touch," Hans responds to Elsa's angry sounds coming from her gagged mouth. "It's a shame you can't have your ice powers right now. You'd ruin the plan."

When Hans' hands gets closer to her, Elsa jerks her head away, trying her best to avoid him despite it being hopeless. Again he shakes his head at her as if she is a child, which only makes her glare even more lethal.

"Are you not thirsty? Hard to drink with something over your mouth."

For a moment Elsa thinks about what Hans just said. Ambiguity is of course hardly a foreign thing given the situation, but swallowing her last ounce of pride for the sake of a little comfort would probably be the best choice. Sighing audibly through her gag, Elsa turns towards Hans without a sign of steering away from his reach. Of course the burning glare from her blue eyes doesn't subside and Hans joyously takes her expression in as he reaches around her head and starts to fiddle with the knot pressed on her nape.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it, your Majesty?"

The moment Elsa felt the cloth loosen, she immediately makes the effort of pushing the wad of cloth stuffed inside her mouth, thus freeing herself from the speech impediment. Quickly licking her lips and working her jaw out from such a strain, Elsa takes a few moments to breathe through her mouth, a comfort that had been taken from her for some time now.

"Drink," Hans draws the cup closer to Elsa's lips. "I think the journey is far from over, so best to keep our precious cargo alive and well. It's water, no need to look at me suspiciously."

Obviously trusting Hans is out of the question, but her thirst is encumbering. So with that thought, Elsa follows Hans' gesture and wraps her lips around the rim of the cup and the moment it's tilted, Elsa gladly takes in the water, taking solace in every gulp that is sating her thirst. Feeling the nourishment coursing down her throat, Elsa pulls away when she had her fill and turning her eyes away from Hans who is enjoying every moment of this humiliation. She wants no part of his victory so she gives him the dignity of facing the back of her head.

"Aw don't act like that, Elsa," cupping her chin, Hans forces the two of them to face eye to eye, "out of everyone you have and will meet, I'm probably going to be your best friend. So get used to-"

In midsentence, Hans managed to 'drink' some of the water Elsa spat on his face. She drank the majority, but somehow she knew it would be helpful to keep some for a situation such as this. Part of her truly enjoyed doing that act, but for the most part it's the best form of justice she can do at the moment.

"Those were good people you killed, you monster!" Elsa's voice is low despite the sharpness of her words.

"I didn't kill any of them," Finally wiping his face to his content, Hans faces Elsa with a bit more of a stern expression, "if you recall, I was chasing you the whole time. You can blame Gilaro and his men for that."

"You can't talk yourself from this mess, Hans! You're just a monster who doesn't deserve-"

"Who doesn't deserve what, Elsa, to live? Please! You had the chance to execute me, but instead you chose to listen to your sister's advice and just send me to my brothers."

"I didn't want your blood staining my kingdom."

"Staining?!" A burst of fake laughter echoed prior to Hans repeating Elsa's word. "You brought a blistering cold winter on your people! You instilled fear in their hearts and left your stupid sister to take care of your kingdom!"

"Don't you dare! Anna is not stupid!"

"Oh really? Gullibility is the first step to stupidity in my opinion especially for her age."

Elsa is more than able to conclude that the events on the day the Eternal Winter happened is shuffling through Hans' mind. Memories that still leave a stinging feeling inside of her which clearly shows through her facial expression.

"She wanted everything to be an open door," Hans continues, "then again, why wouldn't she wish for those things when her dear sister kept the doors shut even after the tragic death of the King and Queen."

The combination of the words and Hans' pompous expression is bringing Elsa in a fit of rage that is more than apparent by the little body language she is allowed. With her bound fists clenched tightly, the thoughts of what she would do if she had her powers starts to overflow in her mind: images of visceral punishment, the cathartic feelings the images brings, then of course the _need_ and _want_ to apply horrific torture on Hans are the things she has been trying to avoid. For the past few months since Arendelle has had peace, Elsa was able to withdraw herself from these spiteful emotions despite herself; but Hans has made it clear that perhaps she needs to quench those said emotions. Perhaps the only real freedom from her suppressed feelings is ending Hans' life in a cruel and painful way.

_The reflection of herself. The wicked smile. _

Gasping inwardly, Elsa pushes the thoughts away and digs deep inside of her for the inhibition that she has. Relaxing as much as she can despite her forced position, Elsa locks her eyes on Hans again, giving her the look of a Queen unhappy with a proposal given to her.

"You call Anna stupid and yet who spent the time in prison?" Almost immediately, Hans' confident smirk wavered. "I don't know how much time you spent there, but from what I can tell, you're still not happy. Still 13th in line.** Still not a King**. Anna and I had lived a happy and peaceful few months trying to rebuild what we lost. What have you done? Plotted revenge? Begged for power? How many letters did you send to different Queens to plead for someone to vouch for your innocence and your right as a victim of fear like that Duke? Let me guess, as much letters as you have sent me before my coronation when you were asking for an audience?"

Elsa's words had long broken the first layers of coolness Hans had; the testament of his wavering confidence is shown through his action of standing up and turning his back on her. The leather material of his gloves squeaking as he clenches his hands tightly into fists while he grits his teeth from pure anger; he takes a few moments before speaking again.

"You read all those letters?"

"Of course I did. I read everything and anything that was addressed to me even when I was a princess," the memories of her isolation pouring heavily as she speaks, "I read your letters. Some more than once…. You have a way with words… your penmanship is even astounding… but at the time I didn't even see Anna very much so why would I bother seeing a stranger? Thank heavens I didn't. The man behind the pen is a cruel, power hungry, murdering, _monster_."

The labeling is something Hans is used so that part didn't bother him. What does fluster him are Elsa's statements about his letters. Perhaps he is looking for things in her words that leans to his favor, or maybe he is misconstruing it all, but there seems to be something other than hatred in the way she expressed certain things. In that moment, Hans starts to loosen up his tensed up body as if really trying to delve into the idea that perhaps the past isn't dead.

"I could've helped you back then, Elsa. Out of anyone, I know isolation. I could've helped you cope with the loneliness. I could have helped you with your powers. To me it's a gift, not a curse, and I for one don't' believe that someone should be kept away with such gift."

"You didn't want to help me, Hans. You didn't want to help my sister! You didn't care about my kingdom! You wanted power! You wanted my hand because it gave you an opportunity that you were never going to get in your own kingdom! You wanted to use me just like you used Anna!"

By now Elsa's tone have reached a higher decibel that adheres to the weight of her words. At the same time her eyes are burning through the back of Hans' head.

"I guess you're right on that. Shame it can't be the other way," quickly wiping off the minor sympathy on his face as he turns around, Hans meets Elsa's eyes one again with renewed confidence that is obvious through his grin, "now I have power, and soon I'll have yours."

Leaning away as Hans draws closer, Elsa responds with as much venom as she can.

"You're not fooling anyone anymore, Hans. You don't have real power! I'm more than willing to gamble that you wouldn't be anything without these savages that you have allied yourself with! Without them, you'll still be that little boy wishing for the things that aren't meant for him! Stuck inside a cell rotting as he so deserves!"

Those blue eyes are full of bravery, her words are potent with conviction, and despite her inferior position, she still stands against him. This will not do and it's something Hans must rectify. With as much spite as he can give, Hans brings his left hand across Elsa's face, letting the sound of leather hitting bare flesh echo on the confined walls. Elsa's cry of pain reverberates along with the impact of his hand. With a force like that, Elsa finds her head turning completely to the other side, losing saliva in the process. While the burning sensation still throbbing on her cheek, Elsa slowly turns her attention back at Hans. With tears streaming down her cheeks, she glares at him as he stands with his hand still up in the air as if he just gave the killing blow. He may not have alleviated all of Elsa's fight, but he sure satisfied himself with that act.

"I have real power Elsa. Far more than you have at the moment."

"It's impressive, Hans," despite the pain, despite the risk of being struck again, Elsa doesn't waver. Her tone of voice still upholding her defiance. "Your powers to strike a woman who is helpless is indeed a sign of true power for a scoundrel like you."

Hans' expression then shifts into a stoic and eerie look that sends chills down Elsa's spine. That said feeling enhances when he starts to walk around her in a slow and ominous manner with his boots tapping the wooden floor with such a rhythm. As he makes his slow walk around her, Hans traces his hand on her hair causing her to flinch away, as if she could really get some distance from him. There are no words; there are only the simple and yet intimidating sounds of his footsteps that are almost going in sync with Elsa's nervous breathing. After what seemed like forever, Hans finally makes his way in front of her and once again locking gaze with her. This sickens Elsa as he is simply looking at her with something boiling in his mind. Part of her really doesn't know what his mind is thinking and that fear is confirmed when Hans leans closer and starts to fidget with her cloak. Struggling frantically, Elsa tries to push him away with her legs, but bound as they are to one of the chair legs, she isn't doing an adequate job at all.

"What… are you doing..?!"

Elsa's cloak had long been pressed against her back. Its regal form wrinkled from being between her weight and the chair while tautly secured by rope. Hans' fidgeting with it is causing more than enough questions in Elsa's head about what he is trying to do and not to mention that it's quite uncomfortable both in the aspect of _where_ his hands are and the fact that it is causing her to strain herself in ways that the ropes binding her won't let her; Her hips lifting up from the forced seated position and not exactly giving the easiest time to cope with the situation. Though after a few minutes of the ordeal, Hans manages to slip the cloak so that it would drape over the side of the chair giving Elsa the chance to slump back down. Catching her breath in a furious manner, Elsa maintains her glare at Hans direction who nonchalantly walks back behind her while clutching the end of her cloak that he worked so 'hard' to getting a hold of. When attaining the proper position he needs, Hans pulls the cloak over Elsa's face in an abrupt and violent manner that it forces her head back painfully on the chair. Though the pain is hardly the danger that Elsa has to face since the thick material of her cloak is now clogging her breathing as Hans presses it tightly and covering her whole entire face.

"Elsa," he leans his face towards her as he recites his words in a portentous tone, "if only you could have just seen that you and I could have done wonders together. Now I have to force everything on you… now I have to remind you that your every whim will be mine to control and you _will be powerless_ to stop me."

Hans' words don't register at all since Elsa is fighting fervently against him smothering her. Thrashing wildly with every bit of movement that she can, Elsa pulls against her bonds, screams against the impediment, her head moving side to side, doing everything that she can to alleviate Hans' cruel action. Is he going to choke the life out of her or is he merely proving a point? He seems to have the intent on ending her life now, as he gives no solace as the dreadful moments roll on by. Blackness greets her and the lack of air is starting to take its toll and Hans knows this as he keeps pulling the cloth back so hard that Elsa's facial features is almost seen through her cloak. A dark and sardonic grin is prominent in Hans' face as he looks over the hopeless victim who has no power against him.

"You know what I did while I rotted in prison?! I did a lot of thinking! And do you want to know what I came up with in my head?!I deserved more," Hans pulls the cloak tighter causing Elsa to struggle even more frantically despite it being detrimental, "_I deserve **MORE**_! And for you to just squander what you were given, gives me the right to your fate!"

Every second things are closing in, as if darkness itself is seeping into her lungs and making it hard for her to breathe, making it difficult to fight, proving it _almost_ impossible to keep her consciousness. Elsa's hands starts to relax and uncurl from her tightly clenched fists; her body sagging into the chair and unintentionally accepting its bondage.

It seems that Hans is proving a point by ending her life right now.

"What are you doing?"

The pressure on Elsa's face decreases and eventually stops the moment Hans hears the slithering voice of an Argonian. Without his force pulling on the cloak, it slides off of Elsa's face allowing her to breath again, which she does, breathing in as much air as she can while holding on to whatever consciousness is left. Hans on the other hand keeps a vigilant eye on the reptile looking being in front of him whose eyes are narrowed. Obviously his actions are not well received.

"The Queen needed some reminder of her place." Hans responds confidently.

"Do not take me for a fool, prince charming," The raspy and crackling voice more than conveys this Argonian's displeasure with the response; his tongue slithered with every syllable as he takes a few steps forward, "your words do not hold any sort of value to me."

"Then you pain me, friend. I thought you were here for a conversation."

Hans has come to realize that with their facial features being mostly that of reptilian, Argonians aren't known to be exude expressions as easily, though the narrowed eyes and the slight twitch of the horns on its jawline more than insinuates that Hans had pressed the wrong buttons with such a comment.

"Gilaro demands your presence. I'll keep a close eye on our prisoner."

Quickly fixing himself, Hans makes his way outside. Passing the Argonian, he gives Elsa one last glance and smiles at the sight of her still trying her best to regain herself from the ordeal. Her head hanging low and not even making eye contact; perhaps it's the fear that Hans could go over the line that makes her have such a defeated posture, or perhaps the sight of the reptile like guard, or maybe Hans did drain her of any defiance she had; regardless of the reason, Hans takes takes the sight as a victory and closes the door behind him. Once outside, Hans makes his way up the stairs and is greeted by the strangers he has come to somewhat call 'comrades'. To Hans, the said title is more or less something to keep things cordial with them. The lots of them are peculiar and definitely not commoners of these lands and also not very friendly to him. Men with cat like facial features, brute men that are green and bear fangs as sharp as bears, and of course sorcerers with the uncanny skill for destruction are people that are not very plausible in the world Hans and Elsa lives in. No matter how long the duration of his time around these strange beings, Hans will never get use to the fearsome powers and features they posses.

"Hans, over here."

Gilaro calls from the nose of the ship and Hans immediately makes his way towards the mage. Along the way he passes by Mabub, the Orc who towers him by almost half his height and twice his weight. The hulking warrior gives Hans no respect and bumps him on the way causing him to stumble quite a bit. A snicker is a response from the Orc as Hans glares at his direction. Regardless, Hans continues to makes his way towards the one person who has a small amount of a pleasant rapport with him.

"The Snow Queen is not to be harmed," Gilaro admonishes as Hans steps beside him. "Your petty need for vengeance will be your undoing."

"Elsa's fine. She just… needed to appreciate a breath of fresh air."

Gilaro's response is a stern hard glare, which Hans barely acknowledges. Seeing as it would be a wasted moment if the conversation continued, Gilaro holds the amulet that Hans used to depower Elsa towards the sky. Hans watches curiously as the jewelry glows but not like the way it did when he used it on Elsa; this time it has a deeper and far more potent energy emanating from it.

"_Bex faal Skuld_."

Right after the foreign words flowed from Gilaro's mouth, the amulet suddenly erupts in power that causes the ship to shake due to the shockwave. While Hans stumble from such a force, Gilaro somehow manages to keep his balance as he holds the amulet's chain with both hands as it continues to emanate a violent glow. A light that goes in sync with the amulet also appears and without any warning it rips a hole in front of them. First it was small but it gradually gets bigger and bigger, until finally it's a massive hole in the middle of the ocean. The volatile energy slithers from the said opening causing the waters below them to shake violently thus rocking the ship; the wind howls angrily, and the sky where the rift is forming is ominous and showing signs of harsh weather. Still trying to keep a stance, Hans watches as Gilaro recites those words one more time that evokes the amulet erupt in a fiercer glow.

"What exactly are you doing?!" Hans' voice barely carries through the roaring wind that surrounds them.

"I told you, prince," Gilaro's attention never leaves his incantations despite speaking to Hans, "I'm giving my share in making the prophecy of the Snow Queen come to life."

The words are still cryptic as the first time Hans heard them and of course no real answer is given. However the answer to the riddle isn't his first concern at the moment as he feels the ship starting to make its way forward towards the chasm in front of them. To someone who hasn't seen this, entering an enormous hole in the middle of the ocean is a daunting scenario especially when the hole is accompanied by hostile energy constantly flickering on its very shape. The only real comfort Hans can take is that he is able to make out another body of ocean on the other side; one that is obviously not the same one they are in.

"Put this on."

Hans turns to Gilaro's direction at the perfect moment as he is tossing the amulet. Frantically, Hans is able to catch it and cringes as it is still glowing and crackling with power.

It glows again and Hans extends his hand away in fear of its volatility. "Are you serious?! It just tore a hole in the middle of nowhere!"

"And that hole will burn you if you do not protect yourself."

Gilaro's grin accompanies his not so soothing words so Hans almost immediately complies by putting on the amulet. As soon as it hangs on his neck, the warmth from its power piercing through the protection of Hans' leather cuirass causes him to flinch.

"What about Elsa?"

"The prophecy will protect the Snow Queen."

"And what about you?" Hans tried his best to avoid the tone of caring. He really doesn't, but even he is well aware that this whole endeavor is a lost cause without Gilaro and his crew.

"We are the children of Skyrim. We were protected on our journey here as we will be on our way back to our mother land."

This world called 'Skyrim' has been mentioned more than once amongst the group and Hans never thought too much of it until now when a gate of energy is now upon him, blaring with every bit of strange and daunting power. Intimidated could be the best emotion to describe what he is feeling or perhaps even fear. Then again, why wouldn't one fear the situation, especially when the ship draws closer to it by the moment? Though the one thing he keeps prominent in his mind is his need to be in power; the prophecy of the Snow Queen can only be attained if the lines are crossed; at least its what is told of him.

* * *

_Bex faal skuld._

The words resounded in her head just like the energy coursing through her veins. At first she tried not to mind the strange ordeal since she is currently still trying to wrap her mind around the sight of a lizard like creature staring at her. Then with a curl of its lips that most likely symbolizes a smile, it speaks.

"Do you feel that?"

Though trying to ignore the feeling is futile since the energy hits her again and this time it is accompanied by the ship rocking violently; it seems that whatever was going on out there also has enough power to cause the ship to falter in stability.

"That, _your Majesty_ is the gate opening so that we can finally be home."

Elsa barely hears what her reptilian guard is saying since her attention is currently at the strange occurrences outside that is causing distortions all over. Straining through the ropes holding her to the chair, Elsa tries to look over the window and the sight of darker clouds and the violent body of water doesn't give her any sort of solace. Then the strange energy hits her again only this time with a sharp and painful surge causing her to squeal rather loudly. Her eyes shutting tightly as she tries and cope with the agony, though Elsa finds that doing so doesn't give her any sort of reprieve for unknown images starts to bombard her mind.

_A black beast letting out a cry that tears through her mind. Its snout is filled with a thousand sharp knives, its eyes as fearsome as the flames pouring out of its jaws. _

_Swords, axes, bows and arrows… bloodshed and the screams of people. _

_Villages pillaged, innocence taken, children watched as their parents are slain in front of them._

_Entities of unknown power. A gate ablaze opens and a man in armor… a face on his chest plate… he laughs and reaches towards her direction… _

_As the armored hand engulfs her, Elsa screams as loud as she can as the darkness becomes encumbering._

* * *

"How long are we staying in the lighthouse?"

"For as long as we need to."

Elsa tries to open her eyes but finds it incredibly difficult to do so. Her body feels like it was drained of all energy and even consciousness is hard to get a grip on.

"We can't stay too long! They say he travels here!"

"_He_?"

"The one who rides the wind and plays with the sky!"

There was one voice that is familiar to her but the rest aren't. The blood rushing to her head is making it even more difficult to regain some sort of bearing.

"She stirs."

Fluttering her eyes open, Elsa catches the sight of the snowy terrain moving as well as armored feet. The situation is quite clear: she is being carried over the shoulder; no doubt by one of Hans' biggest new ally.

"She'll be out for a bit yet. In the mean time, cease this foolishness and tall tales!"

"He…"

Consciousness slipping from Elsa's grasp once again and soon her eyes are unable to keep themselves open.

"….Dragon…"

Darkness starts to take over.

"….born…"

Soon Elsa is oblivious to the world and the darkness embraces her completely.

* * *

Ever since docking, Hans had kept the amulet around his neck as Gilaro had 'demanded' him to. While it serves to keep Elsa's powers at bay, it had also shown that it was capable of more than that; it tore a hole through the sky and somehow 'opened' a gate to another world; at least that is how Gilaro explained the scene to Hans. Then again, the Dunmer stated more than once that there are a lot of things Hans' mind won't be able to take in and as of right now, Hans is almost ready to believe the mage. In fact, the sight of a large winged beast flying by was more than enough to cause terror within Hans. But when a second one flew by, Hans found himself taking a few steps back and bumping into Mabub who was standing behind him and laughing at his action.

"Dragons," a mage of pale skin whispers towards Hans as Mabub walks off laughing, "they are going to be a common sight, prince charming. That little amulet won't save you."

The mage herself joins the Orc's laughter seeing how Hans' hand had somehow found its way around the amulet, clutching it like a child searching comfort from his favorite stuff toy. Huffing in humiliation, Hans releases the trinket and walks towards the lighthouse to look over Elsa; the one thing he knows he has control over at the moment. Of course the rest of Gilaro's men perpetuate their taunting of Hans who is still shaken up by the sight of two fabled beasts flying over his head.

"It's him!" A desperate cry causes Hans to turn towards the distance. "It's really him!"

The warning of an Argonian ally turned all of their attention his way and it brought alarm within all of them except Hans who is standing there confused at who they keep referring to with 'him'.

"Hans move!" Gilaro, who strikes Hans as calm and collected is also in a panic as he rushes to Hans side. "Take the Queen and _get out_ of here!"

"What is going-?"

"GO!"

Still baffled, Hans turns towards the direction of the lighthouse and complies with Gilaro's frantic demands. Meanwhile inside the lighthouse, Elsa hears the entire ruckus and with effort, sits herself up and watches as her guard runs out with his weapon in hand. The moment she woke up, confusion had become her companion and hearing the ruckus outside doesn't bring her any closer to calamity. Looking around, Elsa was hoping that something sharp was left behind so that she could work on cutting her wrists free of the rope, but even the thought of that task is quickly taken away as Hans enters and quickly goes over to her and cuts the ropes that are holding her ankles together. While Elsa isn't against the idea of having freedom that much closer to her, the frantic movement on Hans' part does strike her odd.

"_Hans what's going on?!_" Elsa's question as Hans roughly pulls her up on her feet comes out as: "Huhnh uuuhm'h guung un?!"

Though with the way Hans just pulls her towards the direction he intended to go made it quite obvious that even if Elsa isn't gagged he wouldn't have given her any attention. In fact the lack of gloating or even a steady eye contact proves that there is something amiss and the moment they step out of the lighthouse they find out why. Not too far away is an armored figured mounting what seems to be a horse in flames with purple fire. Some of Gilaro's men seem to truly know who this person is as they respond with a few steps backwards and preparing their weapons for an inevitable battle.

"What is that, a demon?"

Hans took Elsa's thought into words, as the man with the flaming horse seems to have horns on the helmet that adorns his head. Her eyes wide with both fear and desperation as the mysterious figure stands observing the lot of them.

"He's much worse than a demon," a mage responds with fear laced in his voice, "that's the Dragonborn!"

"Do not let him pass!"

Gilaro stands in front of Hans and Elsa and points his staff towards this person that evoked enough courage from his men to heed his words. To Elsa, the stranger is outnumbered by a lot and his chances of winning are very slim. Though as the arrows and the magic started flying his way, his supernatural steed merely stands on its hind legs and with that, he pushes forward towards suicide grounds.

"That fool, he's going to die a very painful death."

"Stop talking and get out!" Of course Gilaro isn't pleased with Hans' pompous attitude. Then again, neither is Elsa. "Take the Snow Queen and yourself as far away from him!"

"Where are am I supposed to go?"

"From here, it's up to our Lord to guide you."

As confused Hans is with those words, Elsa is of course lost in translation and VERY helpless with her predicament. Though her eyes never seem to want to peel away from the sight of the man who rides towards them. The confidence he lets off isn't just mere bravado as magic seems to be in his possession as well, evident by a wolf like creature surrounded in fire that appears from a portal he summoned; a little after that another strange being appears through the same means and before Elsa really manages to sink in what is happening, the fire wolf explodes sending a couple of Hans' allies in flames and running to gain some sort of relief, while some are badly burned or dead.

"GO!" Gilaro forms a magical shield that deflects an incoming attack. "We'll handle the seeker! GO NOW!"

Grunting through the cloth impeding her speech as Hans pulls her, Elsa tries her best to keep her eyes on the stranger who is now upon her captors with a strange red blade that is cutting through the ranks. Dismounting his steed and is now locked with the odds against him, he flows through the attacks and retaliating without remorse. Since getting off his horse, there are now three dead bodies lying down on the snow.

"Come on!"

Elsa nearly falls as Hans tugs on her arm with as much aggressiveness as he can muster. Though to some extent, his lack of consideration at the moment was needed since the entity that was summoned is causing havoc even by itself. As it let out shrieks, shockwaves omits from its tentacle filled mouth that the mages are barely able to ward off with their spells. Weaving through the enchanters defending them, Hans tries his best to gain as much footing away from the battleground but the unrelenting attack from summoned creature is giving enough hardships as it is. The retaliation of the mages are doing some good, but the moment it spawned a duplicate of itself, the trouble multiplies. The two lets out wailing sounds as they release a shockwave in sync with each other sending a couple mages flying.

"Deal with that atrocity!" as the situation gets direr, Gilaro tries his best to keep the morale alive by releasing a treacherous wave of fire that hits the creature, toppling it momentarily. "You kill that one and its doppelganger will die!"

A barrage of spells hits the two creatures that screech through the bombardment and yet the attacks merely served to infuriate them as they respond with the same ear piercing shockwave. Some of the mages falter from the retaliation while some endure with their magical shields. Gilaro's ward flickers as it absorbs the energy from their assailants causing Elsa to whimper as she and Hans stands behind the Dunmer's protection. The constant defensive tactic isn't serving to give Hans any sort of calamity and pushing Elsa to the side despite her muffled protest, Hans loads his crossbow and aims at the man in black armor. Elsa tries her best to thwart his attempt but the ropes holds her wrists tautly behind her and in a blink of an eye, Hans pulls on the trigger. Hans has accuracy and despite his prolonged time in prison, he was able to rekindle his skills in battle during his stay with the Skyrim natives that are getting slaughtered. But he knows he is different; he may be weak now but he will make a difference; Hans is destined for greater things. He has a destiny that had been held back by a myriad of things that are against him. With a sardonic grin, he watches as his bolt flies through the air unnoticed with the sole purpose of hitting this man in his head. Though the target merely tilts his head and the bolt misses him.

"He's just one man!" Hans angrily claims as he reloads his crossbow. "There are more than a dozen of us!"

"Hans you fool! Stay with the Queen and get out of here! We will cover you!"

Hans wanted to argue, but the sight of the man easily cutting the head off another warrior was more than enough to give him an incentive despite his pride. The sight was morbid and Elsa wanted to turn her eyes away as the headless body falls on the ground, but her freedom perhaps lies in a man who seems to be well adapted to the art of killing. Then the moment came when they finally lock eyes and for Elsa, despite the intricately designed helmet, she knows he is looking right at her. With her mouth gagged as it is, her eyes are her only means of communication. Though Gilaro's forces abruptly end that moment by stepping forward to unleash more spells at him. Hans pulls Elsa by her arm leaving the sounds of destruction and screams echoing behind them while he keeps his attention forward despite everything going on around them; perhaps with luck, he can actually get Elsa and himself out of here and fulfill whatever it is he is meant to do in this strange land and avoid this ebony demon.

"**_Wuld Nah Kest_**!"

The sound of a thundering shout nearly caused Elsa to stumble but Hans keeps her balance and continue to pull her along. Though something behind them explodes sending Elsa and Hans tumbling to the ground and away from each other. Without her hands to aid her, Elsa falls face first on the cold snow, her groan muffled by both her gag and the snow her face is planted on.

"Get her!"

"Gilaro that was a stupid move!"

From the sound of Hans' annoyance, he wasn't bothered by the shockwave that sent the two of them apart, at least not as much as Elsa. Not wanting to be at his mercy again, Elsa tries despite her lack of proper body movement to get back on her feet. Meanwhile Hans grabs his crossbow and watches in shock as the man in black armor grabs Elsa and aids her to her feet before turning his full attention back at who is left within Gilaro's forces; with the onslaught he caused, the majority of them are now either dead or maimed to the point of being inadequate. Meanwhile his summoned creature is still giving them some trouble, despite it now being hacked away and obviously near its end. Yelling a bunch of nonsensical muffles through her gag, Elsa manages to catch this man's attention, his head tilting slightly to look behind him. Elsa manages to catch more of the details of his strange horned helmet; the designs on the said helmet isn't just designs, in fact it's a face; the apparel on his head acts like a masque to intimidate as well as protect him from what Elsa can surmise. This moment of 'communication' is once again disrupted with Hans' who now aims his crossbow after some words traded with his own allies.

"**_FUS RO DAH_**!"

As soon as Hans pulled the trigger, the man lets loose his voice that came out as an unrelenting force that blows the majority Elsa's captor away. Unable to truly cover her ears, Elsa cowers away, stumbling backwards as the man's unusual attack using his voice created more than enough distortion. Then something within Elsa ignites and soon it becomes a familiar feeling that Elsa has been hoping to regain for a long time now since her captivity. Whatever the stranger did had caused the spell of the amulet to repel and Elsa rejoices and attends to the first task: freeze the ropes that had been restraining her wrists to the point that they become brittle and weak. Twisting her hands before finally pulling, the ropes shatter, finally giving Elsa the freedom. As quickly as she freed her hands, Elsa does the same to the cloth impeding her speech. Spitting out the rag stuffed in her mouth, Elsa's powers manifests itself with a single thought. Starting from her feet and working its way up, the enchanted ice glides up her form, changing her formal attire into the 'ice dress' and the symbol of the expression of her powers. Opening her eyes, she once again finds herself staring into the blank eyes of her 'savior's' masque; he and Gilaro's forces seems to be frozen in place by the process of her change in wardrobe. Looking pass the man in black armor, Elsa focuses all of her attention looking for Hans but he is nowhere to be found, but the sight of Gilaro is enough for Elsa to take her first few steps of vengeance. Her powers hissing as they surround her tightly closed fists.

"Restrain her!"

The mages raise their staves to comply to Gilaro's command but Elsa attacks first, raising her hand and pointing it their direction and commanding a wave of ice to slash their way. Honing all of her anger at Gilaro's direction, Elsa throws her hands at his vicinity; once again an angry form of ice follows her gesture, covering a mage that stands in front of Gilaro who attempted to thwart her attack.

"Those were good people!" Elsa screams as pushes both her hands forward, again the surrounding snow responding at her demand. "All of you murdered good people!"

Elsa releases another angry rebuttal in the form of ice that blasts more of her former captors. Unable to truly defend themselves properly from Elsa's sudden outbursts, Gilaro's men fall one after another and one particular one faces the painful death of being impaled by ice that Elsa's rage had formed. Blood splattering on the snow-white ground and it was in this moment that Elsa managed grab hold of her senses and halts her reactions. Amidst that chaos and the retaliation, Elsa can now have a full vision of frozen bodies that are most likely dead, one or two fatally wounded and near death due to the spikes made of ice, and those who aren't mortally injured are now frantically trying to crawl away from the sight of Elsa.

"W-What…? What have I _done_?"

Appalled at the results, Elsa stares at her hands that are still glowing violently and it took some effort to calm her powers down. Trembling, Elsa takes a few steps back with her head shaking as if trying to deny what was done. Every step she takes, the snow beneath her starts to react accordingly, erupting in angry shards that are as sharp as the ones that took the lives of a couple of her captors.

"No… no…!"

Oblivious to the fact that Gilaro and the last mage managed to recuperate, Elsa is completely exposed to the lightning that they throw her way. As the energy slithers through the air, a blur of darkness stands in the way and deters the destruction the lightning attack would have done.

"I don't know who you are or how you are able to manipulate that kind of destruction magic," the man in black had somehow managed to summon a golden shield that protected her, "but I suggest you keep doing it or stand aside so you're not a target."

The shield he holds disappears allowing him to hold his crimson blade with both hands, preparing to end the battle with no doubt more bloodshed. Reluctant to continue, Elsa looks at her hands once more that are still shaking from what she has done and how her powers reacted to her anger.

_"I will do my best." _

The last words of Marius echoes in Elsa's mind and followed by the sight of his mangled face as his last breath was still dedicated to protecting his Queen. Clenching her hands into fists, her ice powers emerge once again. Narrowing her eyes at her surviving captors, the storm inside of her erupts, surrounding her in a blizzard that signifies the unquenched need for vengeance. A dire need for the Queen of Arendelle to accomplish for the people that she lost.


	6. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen II

The moment I felt her power, I knew there was something about her magic. The way she controlled ice and made them do her bidding was something that no one in Skyrim has done before. It was almost like the ice was a snake slithering through the air with such prowess; the moment of impact, the mages were covered in ice, incapacitated, and out of the battle. The next slews of ice were the ones that truly showed her anger. One Khajiit falls prey to being covered in ice while the Nord wasn't so lucky as it was impaled by it. His steel shield proved no defense as the crystal like spear punctures his vitals; from the last few expressions his face let out, one could surmise that it was a slow and agonizing death.

"W-What…? What have I _done_?"

In that small amount of time, this woman was able to wreak havoc that amputated or killed her former captors and here she stands confused and almost frightened at what she had just accomplished. As she stands there staring at her hands with a trembling demeanor, it's more than obvious that perhaps murder isn't part of what she is used to doing… Though she better gain some sort of stomach for the onslaught she just accomplished because Gilaro and his remaining men are still hanging on to the thread of hope that they can win this. As this woman is engulfed in what seems to be her _guilt_, the last two mages project a wave of lightning that is aimed right at her with the obvious intent of neutralizing her usage of her magicka. Now's my time to move. I have remained like a statue for too long; staring at her… enamored by her… Running right at her side, I summon Spellbreaker and shield her from the spell.

"I don't know who you are or how you are able to manipulate that kind of destruction magic," the sound of lightning that hit my shield still cracks as I speak to her, "but I suggest you keep doing it or stand aside so you're not a target."

Not waiting for her reaction, I dismiss Spellbreaker and take Muramasa with both hands as I rush towards Gilaro and his remaining fellow mage. They respond quickly and start hurling destruction spells at my direction. Flame. Lightning. Frost. A myriad of magical display in all forms barrage me; some I deflect while most I evade, letting the projectiles and runes lay dormant and useless. When in range, I make for a chance to end the one who fights with Gilaro, but he seems to have the notion that a bound sword in hand would be a great way to engage me. I smirk as he lunges forward with a stab and I quickly shift to the right, evading his attack and without so much of a thought I counterattack by plunging Muramasa right through his back. A gurgling sound comes out of the mage as I keep my eyes on Gilaro as I pull out Muramasa. His last mage falls, bloodying the snow, as he dies with his eyes still open.

"You have claimed apathy, Dragonborn," and thus more 'rightful' words comes out of a stranger in regards to me, "this does not concern you! Stay back before The Lord forces you on your knees!"

"What I claim or what I do does not concern you,"Gilaro's eyes narrow as I spoke, "Just like your _Lord_ doesn't concern me."

"Fool! He will destroy you!"

I wanted to respond kindly with something to the sense of: '_so many have tried and so many have failed_' but Gilaro attacks with a fireball that quickly demanded a physical reaction not a vocal one. I make my way towards him but with the caliber of spells he is releasing, he does an adequate job keeping the distance between us. While I move with some urgency, detaining this Dunmer is my main priority so perhaps tiring him down will be the proper tactic. Amidst all the fray of destruction spells, I manage to take a quick glimpse of the woman who I assumed was dealing with the last of the hired mercenaries; _that was my assumption_ but that thought is quickly refuted as I notice a large snow like creature smashing a swordsman with its giant fist. The woman, who is obviously the one who summoned this beast, has that same expression in her face from the sight of blood. From the look of things, the ice like creature she created had already laid waste to the remaining archers… looks like the battle is over. Not wanting to truly hurt Gilaro yet, I release a shout, summoning a cyclone that sows through his magic and finally causes him to stumble and fall on his front. A weaker mage would probably be hurled some distance away but luckily he has proper protection, for the most part. Quickly taking advantage of this, I kick his staff out of reach and use the same foot to kick him on his back. With Muramasa glowing with a crimson shade, I point the blade at his throat; it was at that moment that fear is far more obvious in his face, though I still commend him for keeping a brave front.

"This is bigger than you, Dragonborn."

I ease my blade closer to his throat as I ignore his words. "Gilaro, is it? Tell me something I don't know that is actually going to amuse me before I feed your soul to Azura's star. And please, do try to throw a spell at me," if only he could see the smirk under the Masque, "I'd really appreciate it."

"I will tell you that the Snow Queen shall be your _failure_."

With those words spoken I feel thundering steps coming my way and with the time I have I move out of the way, flipping backwards on the ground before I get back on my feet. I already knew that the creature that the woman summoned will be after Gilaro and the sight of it grabbing the Dunmer and crushing him in its massive hand is something that I expected as well. Bones cracked and shattered and Gilaro screams in agony; with his deathly howls still reverberating, the creature slammed him into the ground, which ends his protests.

"_STOP!_"

I slightly turn my head towards her as she pitifully reaches out towards the creature from a distance. Though by now it is already taking the lifeless Dunmer on its second impact on the ground that causes the woman to turn away in fright and disgust. I watch the scene as the beast continues to beat the corpse into a pulp; its snowy fist now drenched in blood and most likely other body remnants of the Dunmer. I have seen visceral things like this far too often and it is a norm in Skyrim… though this creature… it's foreign; it is no atronach. It might resemble a frost atronach but with its body dominant of snow instead of ice, one can certainly point out the difference; that and it has a face… an almost humanoid face that shows a raging expression with each pound of its fist on the ground. When the pounding stopped, it lets whatever solid residues of Gilaro slide off its hands before turning its attention on me. It only takes a moment before it repositions its stance so that it may concur with the violent howl that it lets off. Spikes of ice protrude from its back and its bloody fingers also produce the same sharp ice as it takes a step towards me.

"Tell it to stop," I hold my blade as it gains another step towards me. "Now!"

"Can't you see," her voice mirroring the worried expression on her face. "I'm trying!"

Her effort isn't coming out very eloquently since her creation is now trying fervently to pummel me. I evade one punch too many before I decide that it will be up to me to remedy this catastrophe of a conjuration. It may not be a familiar Frost Atronach but it's still a creature made out of the same element so with that said, I release the Thu'um that adheres to the damage fire can perform. As the flames cover its colossal form, it shrieks in pain and stumbles back; every step causing its solid body to melt and it doesn't take more than four steps until it falls apart. As it succumbs to its liquid, it lets out one pitiful cry that almost signifies its _'death'_. Soon its ability to speak melts along with the rest of it, leaving only a pile of snow that is barely half of what it was… the rest is now a puddle of water.

It takes a few moments after the giant snow creature melted until the elation of battle leaves my body. Within those moments, I ponder about what Gilaro was saying and if the skirmish really had significance aside from just the normal slave trade. Royalty are captured and held for a higher ransom is normal… but this woman... Speaking of which, I turn towards her and catch a sight of her on her knees sobbing. Her face buried in one of her hands as she deals with the aftermath in her own way.

"Muramasa," I whisper to my blade as I hold it up and observe its crimson glow, "is your thirst sated for today, my friend?"

I find myself talking to this _loyal_ companion far more often than I talk to Arvak. Shrugging my shoulders, I sheathe the blade and decide to see if this woman can at least tell me something.

"The battle is over and your captors are dead," I speak with a low tone. "You're going to be okay."

She responds with a few more sobs before finally lifting her head out of her hand as she looks up towards me with grief. Tears pouring profusely from her icy blue eyes as she stares up at me, almost as if she is analyzing me. I reciprocate the gesture of staring before she turns away back to her hand and continues to cry. I sigh.

"If I were you, I'd dry those tears and realize how fortunate you are."

"Fortunate?!" Her response more than insinuates that I struck the wrong nerve. "They massacred good people who were protecting me! They kidnapped me and were planning on doing something horrible to me!"

"They won't be doing those things anymore. As for your people, don't let their death be in vain by wallowing in your grief."

Then that burst of cold energy shot through my veins and for obvious reasons: the woman suddenly omits a snowstorm that surrounds her like some sort of shield. While the winds are ferocious and I find myself on alert, it isn't something that can truly do me harm, though her standing up with a very angered expression written in her face does insinuate that there might be more physical altercation coming my way.

"Have you no sympathy?!" With narrowed eyes and fists clenched tightly, the storm that surrounds her starts to somewhat bother my stance.

"This is destruction magic that I have never seen before," I reply without really replying to her last words. "What are you? And how did you learn to do the things that you do?"

As I suspected, my words didn't exactly do anything to calm her down nor entice to her respond; in fact she does the opposite and her powers erupt even more as shards of ice erects from the ground that originates from where she stands. I mildly give attention to the violent show of her powers as I keep my eyes locked on her.

"The Snow Queen, is it? What does that entail? And forgive me but I can't quite tell what you are. Altmer? Breton? Nord? Obviously you aren't Argonian or Orc. Unless of course you are half and the visually pleasing parent had more dominance to your visage."

"What are you talking about?!" Tears are still pouring from her eyes as she speaks with an angry tone. "People just died! The ones you just nonchalantly killed murdered good people under my rule!"

"Take solace in the fact that the ones who did you wrong are now dead," despite the few groans from the dying mercenaries, I think I've proven my point. "Your people can rest in peace."

"How dare you!" More ice starts to form into spikes all around me as my words continue to infuriate her. "You think that there is some sort of retribution from the mindless bloodshed that has been done here?!"

I remain as still as I can, staring at her, studying her …. Is it the powers she demonstrates that keep my eyes locked on her? Or is it the naïve words that she is sprouting out? I shake my head at myself and decide that I am wasting my time.

"Your ship still stands," I say to her, "since you are royalty, I'm sure you can hire more than enough men to help you go back to your land. If the death of your captors do not satisfy you, then there is nothing else for you here."

My curiosity won't get the best out of me here. Intriguing she might be but she isn't worth another moment of conversation. While part of me worries about how she will go about hiring those people with such… _innocence_, I do think that wherever she is from, with the proper man power to delegate, she can get out of Skyrim. Again accumulating those said manpower without being taken advantage of is another story altogether. Regardless, that is not my story, it is hers and with that said in thought, I make my first steps to turn away and prepare to summon Arvak. I take one last moment to glance at her and she seems to have no intention of stopping me_; that's good news_.

"In your own way," then the moment I turned my back, she starts speaking, "you're just as evil as they are. The difference is, you're powerful."

_Evil_, _powerful, _and _difference_; those words together when I'm in the sentence is always amusing. I let out a short chuckle almost immediately after she said those words. My, that statement can lead to more than enough forks in the road to what I could say in return. I turn around to retort but the black mists rose from my armor and engulfs me again, which makes this woman flinch back in fear that I was about to do something. I look to the sky and not too long after I do, the ear-piercing shout of a dragon echoes within the cloudy skies. The woman scans the open air frantically, completely looking like the part of a living being who has never heard a dragon shout before.

"Too close for it to just be passing by," my hand finds itself on the hilt of my blade. "If I were to make an assumption, this one is going to cause a scene."

"What… in heavens is that…?"

Her eyes wide from uncertainty and a whole lot of fear. By now I pull out Muramasa and prepare; the act of me drawing my blade doesn't do anything to settle her dread, as it shouldn't.

"As of right now, your Majesty," sarcasm in my tone, "This powerful evil person is the only thing that will keep you alive from a dragon."

"Dragon?"

Even the word seems foreign to her and that makes me smirk even more. "Don't tell me that you're oblivious to their existence as well?"

Regardless of the fact if she hasn't heard of them before, now would be the time to truly get acquainted with their existence. From the direction where the vastness of the ocean takes over, where the thick mist blankets whatever is out there, the familiar face of the creature emerges with its reptilian eyes staring straight at us, and its wings in full span as it lets out a bellowing cry. Oddly enough, it might be the same dragon I was chasing earlier and now it has come to a full circle.

"Heavens…." Fear is potent in her tone as the dragon flies over us.

"Get used to it, your Majesty. It's about to land. Which means you're about to get a face to face interaction with Skyrim's most hazardous native."

It spends a flap or two going the opposite direction before adjusting its course so that it would face us again. Letting out another shout, it descends and within a few minutes, it lands; the ground below us shakes, debris floating everywhere, and by the time it fully gets its' grounds, the dragon poises itself up and like many of its kin before, it lets out a roar to indicate that its presence should be feared. The woman covers her ears as she takes a few steps back while I stay where I am, ready for the moment when it will attack. Though in that moment, I find my eyes wandering back at the distraught woman who is staggering backwards with fear mixed in her every step. Though I have seen dread due to a dragon before, this is different; it truly does seem like this is the first time she has seen one or even know of its existence. With powers like that, she stands a chance but…

**_It shouts_**.

There I am again spending too much time studying this girl and now it lets out its breath that consists of deadly ice cold fire; frost dragon. The trajectory of its attack is too wide and evasion would not be prudent; considering I spent too much time in other thoughts, I have one option for the moment: I summon Spellbreaker. The enchanted shield immediately forms in front of me and its' ward deters the attack from truly hitting me. As soon as the attack stops, I retract my shield and make my way to counter.

_The woman_….

I give a slight turn of my head towards her direction as I rush forward; nothing but a wall of ice… A wall of ice… It makes sense but as to why it does is still lost on me. They call her the Snow Queen and from what I have seen, she can manipulate ice and snow so fitting is that name that. Still…

_Back to the battle ahead of me._

The creature is still recovering from such a strained attack so it gives me more than enough time to gain the proximity that I need to get in close. With a running momentum behind my swing, Muramasa cuts through the side of its jaw letting it cry out in a painful howl before shrugging it off and attacking back. The lunge of its head is quickly evaded as its snapping jaws hit nothing but air; once again the moment is mine and I bring my blade down and accomplishing a deep cut on the back of its neck; if I would've gone further, it probably could've been an easy beheading. Regardless it felt the pain and it shuffled back with a wailing cry. Despite the agony, the dragon uses its wing as a means to attack by slamming it down; I push back, avoiding its attempt to smash me before I lunge forward again for another strike. Though before I was able to, a wave of ice starts hitting the beast and looking back behind me, the woman is attempting her spells on the dragon. I would commend the valor but…

"Woman! It's a frost dragon! Your element of choice will only agitate it!"

She immediately ceased her attack and looked at me with an appalled expression. Of course I had very little to mind that look as the dragon is now retaliating from my attacks and her means of 'tickling' it. The cold fire erupts from the mouth again and I run fervently to the woman's side, and using Spellbreaker's power to ward off the attack once again.

"Right behind us," I shout as loud as I can so that she can hear me, "there's a cave there! Stay in there until I slay this dragon!"

Her response is a silent fear treatment as she takes a quick glance towards the direction of Brinewater Grotto and then back at me. While I can't honestly say that the said cave is safe; gods know what lingers there now, but honestly, anything for her is better than this dragon.

"Stop standing around! Go!"

With the harsh demand in my tone she finally complies. Lifting her dress so that running won't end up with her stumbling over, she makes her way to the cave with urgency in every step. Heels… why would you choose high heels in an erratic situation like a fight? Regardless, the dragon relents its shout and begins to reinitiate its need for close combat; no more play time, I suppose. I'll be able to hold the dragon long enough so that the woman can find some sort of safety inside Brinewater Grotto. My thought process is that I'll end this quickly due to a certain situation, but the addition of another ear piercing shout that echoes through the sky shoots that thought down. A second dragon. Emerging from the general direction the first dragon came from, this one doesn't waste a moment as it attacks, sending spheres of flame crashing in the direction the woman was trying to go, halting her progress to the cave almost immediately. What makes matters even worse is that before she can even think about dealing with the flames blocking her path, the dragon itself lands on top of the cave, perching itself as if guarding a wall with a word of power.

"Oh in the name of Boethiah!"

It's been a while since I found myself agitated at a situation like this. Two dragons is a rare commodity and usually entertaining but now it has become dire; not for my sake but for hers. Part of me truly just wants to let her be and see how she deals with that dragon but… the other part is telling me to not be so _unsympathetic; _Odd. Sheathing Muramasa for a moment, I conjure flaming familiars one after another and letting them explode on the dragon before summoning my flame atronach: Elle-Auria. She won't hold the frost dragon very long but it would be enough time for me to distribute my attention to the other dragon who is now unleashing a shout. The woman surprisingly reacts by using her ice powers to try and repel the fire; have to admit, she's doing an adequate job for the moment but one can tell that it's far too strenuous for her. Time to step in.

I let loose my voice of frost and aid the woman push the fire back. Admittedly with two force of the opposing element working together make this tactic easier. Then again, when was the last time I met a mage try to counter a dragon's shout? Deepening my stance and calling forth on the third word, I complete the shout and the dragon's fire is relieved for the moment as it staggers from its perched position before taking to the air to regain its bearings.

"Thank you…" she says to me with an exhausted tone.

"It's too early for gratitude, Snow Queen."

I'm not lying either since both dragons are still very much alive. Every moment counts for even the weakest of dragons can cause me my life. By now the frost dragon have depleted the atronach and the one in flight is already omitting its flames which forces me to jump out of the way, rolling on the snow before being able to get back on my feet. The woman however doesn't have agility in her favor and she stumbles on the ground, landing on all fours but miraculously evaded the attack. The frost dragon saw this and without any time wasted, it drew forth its breath at the woman who is completely unaware of that danger. I tried fervently to reach her in time but the distance between us was too great … but the dragon is mine. With blade drawn, I lunge at the beast who is still preoccupied disintegrating its' victim with its' shout. Ignorant of my coming, I plunge my blade right at its throat. It immediately felt the pain and drew its neck back, bringing me with it as it lets out a painful howl. Regaining my composure from the abrupt movement, I push downward, taking the blade with me and cutting through the dragon's neck and ultimately leaving it to agonize in 'silence'. It falters and eventually falls to its side with me jumping off as it writhes for its last moment. Eventually it will decay, its scales will burn and once again I'll have a soul to absorb. At the cost of that woman's life, the soul of the dragon surrounds me in its whimsical glow; one more beast to slay.

The said beast one is now descending and making its decision to either land or play it long range. I don't necessarily have it in me to play with this beast anymore and I prepare to ground it from flight. Then the familiar cold energy erupts from behind me. Astonished, I give half my attention to where the woman was covered in an ice like tomb… I wanted to question my eyes for deceiving me as the woman is very much alive. Unscathed, alive, and seething with power that mirrors that of a Daedric goddess… Like serpents, the blue energy surrounds her and lets off hissing sounds that insinuates pain if one touches it. Her every step causes the snow to emerge in sharp pillars that could kill if one is standing where they erect. Those eyes that were once peaceful and almost naïve are now glowing orbs that could almost be mistaken as a Draugr Deathlord's eyes: evil, incapable of mercy, and just down right hungry for bloodshed. That dangerous glare is staring right through me and into the dragon who is hovering with a strange curiosity; whatever reaction it was going to make is too late as tendrils of ice forms from the ground and reacts to the woman's hand gestures. An extension of her arms no less, she controls the vine like ice and entangle the dragon's wings, crumpling them, ripping them, until eventually the dragon falls on the ground. Its attempt to get back to its feet is thwarted by more of the same tendrils wrapping around its neck and pulling it down. What makes it worse is that its ability to shout is deterred by its snout forced shut and its head bound to the ground along with the rest of its body.

In all the years I have spent wandering Skryim killing and slaying these beasts, not once have I seen one so desperate for its life. Then again, I don't spend the time with a slow and grueling kill… I play with its' time towards death, though I don't let it bleed to suffer. Though this woman… I observe her as she continues to encumber this beast with her ice tendrils. Like Odahviing when we trapped him in Dragonsreach, this beast has no chance of escape and the woman makes it a point to agonize it…. Her face shows no remorse; her lips slightly curled from an insinuation of pleasure, one brow cocked as if this is amusing beyond belief. With Muramasa in tow, I walk towards the beast and plunge the red blade through its skull; its life quickly slipped away as its eyes draws blank. The moment it dies, the ice that the woman is using to bind it cracks and with that, the woman herself loses composure and falls to the ground, unconscious. The cold air isn't as prominent and no longer piercing through the warmth of my armor; As for the woman, if one looks at her sleeping face, one would question if the sinister visage from earlier was actually her. It takes me longer than normal to sheathe my blade as I walk towards her with ambivalence. I barely feel the dragon's soul entering me as I take a few moments to study the unconscious 'Snow Queen' in front of me. Lowering myself into a crouching position, I can hear her breathing even more; serene and not a care for the cold and unpleasant ground that she is lying down on.

Leave her.

Don't leave her.

Snow Queen…. Gilaro's words about her being my failure… _That vision from the other day when I was in ethereal form_!

I've often associated the symbol as Skyrim. The land I'm bound to; the land who depends on my legend and my prophecy to save it. Akatosh… The Empire… whatever it is, the symbol relates to me far more than I would like to admit. Children who aren't favoring the truth about me wave little flags with that symbol when I walk by them. That image of that woman shattering that symbol... Vague connection but could it be?

I let out an audible sigh before summoning Arvak, "We've got company for the ride."

Wrapping my arms around her back and the bend of her knees, I lift the 'Snow Queen' from the ground and walk towards my undead steed. This may be one of the worst ideas I have ever concocted in my head.

**To Be Continued.**


	7. Elsa: Whispers in the Dark

There was a moment in time when Hans couldn't feel anything; that same moment rendered all of his awareness to nothing and he is oblivious to the world around him. Slowly though, reality starts to seep in and an annoying sensation on his leg shakes him from the dream world. Though soon enough the pace of regaining consciousness quickens and the agitating feeing becomes a sharp pain that soon becomes an excruciating one. Feeling everything around him becoming more real, Hans jolts up and immediately howls in pain and the epiphany as to why quickly hits him: his leg has a gaping hole due to his landing. Blood pouring out profusely and as quickly as he can, he covers his injury and apply as much pressure as he can, though that action reveals more injuries all over his body; his left arm in particular is throbbing with pain on his triceps. His armor frayed and bloody all over and the memories of what happened are coming back to him rather quickly. The journey to this land led to the encounter with the man in black armor; the one they call _Dragonborn_. He came to Elsa's aid and fought like no other man Hans has seen fight before. Even the savages that he had aligned himself with and helped him with the scheme of kidnapping the Queen of Arendelle did not stand a chance. He was a juggernaut… and his voice was like thunder that threw Hans back like he was a weightless piece of paper.

**_'Fus Ro Dah!'_**

Those foreign words echoed inside his head that sends chills all over his body. Whoever he was, Gilaro must not have thought about the idea of his interference and they paid the price; Hans could almost hear himself gloating to Gilaro if he ever gets the chance of seeing that dark elf again. Shaking the thoughts of the debacle out of his head, Hans then focuses on figuring out how to get back on his feet and fulfill what the 'Lord' wanted him to do; whoever the said Lord is. Once again Hans curses his 'allies' for keeping so much from him and their failure to do so had become a factor to this dilemma. Getting familiar with his surroundings, Hans could tell that in front of him is a makeshift road, obviously built some time ago and properly used; the 'divider' made up of piled up rocks barely separates the road and the side walk since the lack of up keeping has left whatever is man made barely standing. Looking behind him, Hans could see Elsa's ship in the distance, over the rocky mountain. How he managed to end up here sends shivers up his spine; what kind of power does this Dragonborn really possess to throw a grown man up a small mountain with his voice? Though Hans already knows that the beings of this Skyrim are not like the ones where he came from. No man can ride an undead horse and lay waste to a small army with the way this one did from where he came from; part of him pondered that maybe this was too big for him though that quickly dissipates when his pride came back.

_"Those simpletons_," he thought to himself, _"the lack of preparation gave them what they deserve."_

Despite those thoughts, Hans had this small hope that maybe Gilaro was at least able to rectify the situation and turn the tides. With that to hold on to, Hans makes an effort to get himself on his feet, using the mountain to aid him to his one good leg. The process is painful and he soon discovers that every movement reveals every single injury he received from the battle. More than a couple of bones fractured or worse; his head throbbing, his left arm most likely has a huge cut due to the sting of the open air, and of course the visible injury of his leg that is still bleeding dangerously. Setting the agonies aside to the best of his ability, Hans leans on the wall and hobbles close to the ledge so that he will get a good view of the area where the Arendelle ship docked. Almost immediately Hans finds himself staggering backwards to avoid being seen as the ship is now infested with armored men. If Hans was to guess, these are no mercenaries or band of thieves and are clearly soldiers of the closest hierarchy that occupies this land; the obvious clue to that is the fact that they are all wearing identical armor with some kind of banner etched in their shields that Hans couldn't make out. Their methods of scrutinizing the ship and the carnage of the battle also give Hans enough evidence that they are not mercenaries. Though whether they are an organized military or rogue bandits don't bode well for him since he is a stranger on this land with intent that the norm wouldn't agree on. He has to find some way around the debacle. But his 'allies' are dead and Elsa is nowhere to be found; as much as he hates to admit it, Hans is lost and powerless to the situation.

_'From here, it's up to our Lord to guide you.'_

Gilaro's words somehow seeped inside Hans' mind and instinctively, his hand reached for the trinket around his neck. When it was used to open the portal, it had a fiery crimson glow that it looked like a red diamond instead of the ebony like stone it is now. Clutching it tightly with trembling hands, Hans pushes off from the wall and limps towards the 'feeling' that the amulet seems to be taking him. The better side of him knows he must tend to his wound but something else compels him to move forward in a slow and agonizing manner. Up the makeshift road and towards the path where the winds are so cold that snow shapes its' form, Hans takes his grueling steps forward; towards the unknown destination; towards the uncertain path that his compulsion is taking him.

* * *

_'In your own way, you're just as evil as they are. The difference is, you're powerful.'_

The man clad in ebony armor; his makeshift face stared coldly at her numerous times. He was a force to be reckoned with. His display of power was breathtaking as it was appalling. He was a man who took life without any consent or care for judgment. He was like her captors, but he was far more powerful, more dangerous and almost inhuman. But something from the skies told Elsa that he wasn't like them at all; he was far more.

_'Get used to it, your Majesty. It's about to land. Which means you're about to get a face to face interaction with Skyrim's most hazardous native.'_

A dragon emerged from the skies with a lethal roar; probably the most frightening thing Elsa had ever seen and heard. It landed and it's intent was clear; the man reacted with such prowess that even the dragon was no match for him.

_"Right behind us,"_ despite his uncaring demeanor, he seemed to show concern for Elsa's safety as his words implied, _"there's a cave there! Stay in there until I slay this dragon!"_

Though as Elsa found out, ever since her arrival to meet with whom she thought was going to be the King of the Southern Isles, nothing was as simple as just running away. Another dragon appeared and let loose its terrifying presence in the form of fire. Trapped between mountains, a body of water, and two dragons, Elsa had no choice to try and fight back. She met the dragon's breath with her powers and tried vehemently to keep her grounds. The weight of the beast's power was taxing and it was only a matter of time until she found herself engulfed in fire, but the man stood by her side again and displayed more of his mysterious powers.

**_'Fo Krah Diin!'_**

It was at that moment that Elsa realized the similarity of his ability to shout out words on the whim and the dragons' elemental breath. She stared at him for a few moments… intrigued and frightened all at the same time.

_'Thank you…'_ it was only thing she managed to say after they warded the dragons fire.

_'It's too early for gratitude, Snow Queen.'_

Despite the degrading tone he used, his words did ring truth since the dragons were still very much alive and angered. The one in the sky had already started bombarding them with fire before she was able to recognize it was attacking. He of course was already out of the way while Elsa found herself stumbling on the ground, almost burned, but luckily she managed to move out of the way. Falling on the shallow end, the water immediately froze solid and trapped her hands and with that, the dragon on the ground released its breath of _frozen flame_ right at her. Closing her eyes tightly and turning her head away was the only thing Elsa could do; the wave of cold fire swallowed her and from there everything was black….

_'Conceal he said.' _A voice called out from the darkness.

Everything was as clear as day and everything was familiar to her.

_'Don't feel he said.'_

Energy from within erupted and the powers that she thought she knew suddenly transformed into a different beast altogether.

_'Don't let them know they said.'_

She felt everything; anything the snow and ice touches, she felt. The dragon stared at her with such confusion that it made her want to grab it and strangle the breath out of it.

_'They're going to know. They'll have to know.'_

A mere thought brought the dragon to the ground; metaphorically, it was on its knees writhing in vein as she commanded the ice formed tendrils to tighten their grip.

_'That's it,' Elsa, _the voice called to her, _'let it go.'_

The image of the dragon disappears and once again darkness surrounds her, but not for too long; soon Elsa found herself standing in front of her mirror. Her reflection stared back at her with that grin as it reached out towards Elsa. Gasping, Elsa took a few steps back only to find out that there was something that obstructed her that caused her to look behind.

_'Your destiny is in my hands,' _the vile look on Hans' face as he held out the amulet caused Elsa to falter the opposite direction, _'You and I are meant to do great things together, My Queen.'_

The sound of glass shattering required Elsa's attention to turn towards the mirror again and to her dread, her reflection became a full form version of her who was walking towards Elsa's direction with that same insidious grin.

_'Don't hold me back anymore,' _She said, _'just let me out.'_

Elsa's reflection got closer by the second and Hans remained where he was behind her. The space was becoming claustrophobic and for some reason, no matter what Elsa tried to do, she couldn't seem to find a way to slip pass their confining presence. They kept closing in.

_'Stop!' _Elsa managed to utter out the word. _'Get away from me! Leave me alone!'_

Despite her efforts, Elsa found herself unable to truly get away; the hand of the doppelganger was upon her and soon Hans' was as well. Screaming from the top of her lungs proved futile since no sound came out. The cold and darkness closed in and to Elsa, it almost felt like she was drowning; for the first time, the cold truly had the spiteful affect that it was supposed to have and she wasn't used to it all. Like heavy hands pushing her down, Elsa found herself caved in within the bowels of darkness, accompanied by the voices of her 'reflection' and the pompous Hans…

* * *

The scent of candles is the first thing that invades Elsa's senses. Next is the feeling of warmth and soft fabric all over her body. Somewhere within the mysterious void, a fire is crackling; the smell of home made fire does have that scent and sound that truly helps contribute to the idea of relaxing. Letting herself bask in the feeling of the sensations, Elsa shifts her position, turning her body in the opposite direction, while enjoying the comfort the bed she is lying down on provides. This has been the most relaxed Elsa has felt since— The memories hit her quickly and Elsa opens her eyes with dread of her situation. Hans, the strange men, the man in black armor, the dragons, and the nightmare! With those hitting her all at once, Elsa immediately sits up with the notion that she would find herself in the worse place possible, or perhaps even in the afterlife, though the surrounding that greets her doesn't exactly concur with what she had in mind. In fact it's a bit too peaceful actually.

A wall greets her that is only decorated with a shelf that holds what seem to be bottles of wine of some sort. While that is a strange place to put liquor, it is hardly something Elsa can focus on. Scanning the room, Elsa quickly spots her coronation dress and cloak draped over a chair, which of course renders her completely nude. Gasping at that realization, Elsa quickly grabs the green sheets and covers her upper body, trying fervently to keep her modesty that seemed to have been taken away without her knowledge.

"You are finally awake," a woman's voice penetrates Elsa's confused moment, "you slept like a child, I assume you are well rested."

Coming around the corner, Elsa watches as a woman in a dark orange robe calmly walks into sight with a tray holding a pot and a cup. With her intention unknown, Elsa pushes herself backwards until her back is pressed firmly against the rock-layered wall behind her. A small demonstration of her power is prominent with the glow in her eyes and the small drops of snow appearing from thin air. Pausing in her steps, the woman studies Elsa's reaction with a calm but concerned expression.

"You do not have to panic."

"Of course I have to panic!" Elsa tugs the sheets closer to her body. "I'm naked! I don't know who you are or where I am!"

"Fair enough," the woman responds calmly as she puts the tray on a table by the wall, "though if I meant you harm, wouldn't it have been easier for me to accomplish that when you were unconscious? After all, Onyx did mention your peculiar magic that you posses, so why risk harm to myself now?"

"Onyx?"

"The man who brought you here; the Dragonborn."

"_Dragonborn_?"

The title had been mentioned more than once when Elsa was held captive and frankly, she still doesn't truly understand what it means other than the man named Onyx, the Dragonborn, handled himself quite well against her former captors and the dragons themselves. It's apparently a name to be revered and his ability to neutralize opponents with ease is a testament of that.

"He warned me that certain common knowledge are a mystery to you," the woman pours the hot liquid into the cup and walks towards Elsa with it in hand, "he was not lying. So where has this beautiful woman been hiding while Alduin was wrecking havoc on Skyrim?"

Elsa takes a moment to look at the cup she is offering as she tries to comprehend the words that were just given to her before staring back at the woman who seems to let out a non-hostile vibe despite the assertive look she has. Studying her, Elsa can't help but take note of the green marks on her forehead that resembled another set of eyebrows on top of her silver colored brows. Her skin darker than Elsa's, which is a perfect contrast for her silver hair; the said hair stands out to be her most dominant features in her face aside from the thick lips that seems to curl at the sight of Elsa. She can't really tell if the strange smile is her way of showing pacifism or something else.

"Please, drink."

"I would, but I do have the need to keep my dignity," elaborating on the fact that she needs to use both her hands to cover her nudeness, Elsa continues to keep her distance, pressing her back firmly on the wall.

"Oh in the name of Dibella! Please, I have tended to many naked men and women," her tone of voice concurring with the stern expression on her face, "there is no need for you to feel defensive when it comes to that. Besides, I have seen far less impressive assets, so you of all people shouldn't be ashamed of a little freedom from your clothes."

Elsa isn't exactly sure how to take those words aside from blushing. Regardless, she does feel slightly obligated to take the cup that the woman is offering. Using her other hand to cover her exposed breasts, Elsa takes the cup and takes a sip; the unsweetened but flavored warm drink is none other than tea. A foreign flavor both through taste and smell, though still acceptable to suit Elsa's thirst; taking one more sip, Elsa hands it back to the woman, and pulls the sheets back over herself.

"Thank you—"

"Senna," the woman finishes by stating her name. "Now, would you be so kind by giving me yours, young lady?"

There was a slight ambivalence within though what harm could be done by giving her name now? Sighing, Elsa speaks, "Elsa. Elsa of Arendelle."

"Elsa is it? What a pretty name. Sure does sound better than what Onyx called you."

"And what would that be?"

"He called you the _Snow Queen_. I ponder how he came up with that name?"

Since the Eternal Winter, the title 'Snow Queen' or 'Ice Queen' had always been labels to give rival kingdoms a bit of an intimidation. It's more or less a reminder to anyone who would dare cross Arendelle borders with the intent to do harm that the queen has a talent that could be detrimental to their cause. Elsa never really liked titles that instill fears with what she has gone through, though she saw the importance of it, and with that she had some what gotten used to it. Though for her captors and now her apparent 'knight' to call her Snow Queen is just a bit off putting. Sighing to herself, Elsa once again makes a conscious effort to pull the sheets up since they are sliding downwards and slowly revealing more of her.

"Senna, was rendering me naked completely necessary?"

Senna raises a brow with Elsa's sudden change in subject and tone, though she entertains the notion by responding, "Your clothes were dirty. I washed them for you; I also thought that a warm bath would suffice. I was just on my way to prepare one for you."

Once again Elsa finds herself unable to form words, instead she blushes and looks away.

"Would it have been better if it was Onyx who unclothed you and washed your clothes?"

"Heavens no!"

"That's what I thought. I assume you saw his prowess with that red blade of his?"

Of course Elsa remembers. Aside from his rude demeanor, the way he moved through the battle with both talent and power is what defines that moment; part of her was scared that her aid was in the form of someone as graceful in killing as him.

"I'm aware of what he can do."

Senna lets out a sound that seems like a giggle but disguised within the act of clearing her throat. "You saw a fraction of what he could do, Elsa. The Nine were kind to make sure you didn't see the full power he possesses."

The thought is dreadful seeing how this Onyx dismantled a small army and two colossal beasts from legends. What else could a man possibly do that is worse than what he had displayed in the battlefield not too long ago?

"It's safe to assume that a man with that much power spends most of his time basking in the glory of battle," Senna continues as she hands Elsa the tea again. "So for more than enough reasons, it was best that I tended to your simpler needs."

Anna and Arendelle immediately enters Elsa's mind the moment Senna mentioned 'simpler needs'. What else would Elsa need than the simple idea of being at home with her family? Lost in that thought, Elsa spent a moment inhaling the sweet smell of the tea, letting the warmth of its steam caress her face; Anna always brought her tea in the morning, always reminding her that deep within the ice cold skin of hers, there is always that warm and soothing heart that made Anna believe that eventually through the years of closed doors their sisterhood will find its way back. Anna the optimist. Anna, the one who never loses hope despite how dire things could be. Elsa could use Anna just about now, but heaven knows that Elsa would do anything she can to make sure that her sister never sees the atrocity she saw mere hours ago. Feeling the guilt of her guards' deaths again, Elsa takes another gulp of the tea as if it was really meant to calm her mind.

"Wherever you're from, we'll get you back home," Senna's words break Elsa from her trance. "While it's quite rare for Onyx to tend to the needs of one person, I'm sure he already has an idea how to get you back to your Arendelle. Now come, let's go get that warm bath."

While the thought of going back home brought more than enough elation within Elsa, the fact that this Onyx person _rarely_ helps people does pique her interest. Why would he be helping her? The better question is how exactly did Hans and that Gilaro person bring her here? Where is here? Encumbered by the questions, Elsa slowly slides the sheets off of her naked form as Senna takes the cup of tea from her hands. Still not quite used to having a complete stranger be around her nudeness, Elsa blushes as she gingerly places her bare feet on the wooden floor while her hands are trying their best to cover her modesty.

"Here, child," Senna offers a cloth and Elsa takes it with haste.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Like a towel, Elsa wraps the crimson silk around her breasts, under her armpits and is happy to feel that it covers her somewhat. Of course the cloth stops just about her upper thigh so while it does the job, it's not entirely going to suffice for proper clothing. Her eyes wandering back towards her coronation dress and wonders if she should just put it on now… though the thought of a warm bath does entice her; washing the grime would be another means of rejuvenation from the distressing ordeal that she had experienced within the last few hours.

* * *

Every time his foot touches the ground it was an agonizing reminder of his injuries that have yet to be tended to. Aside from the obvious wounds both minor and lethal, some broken few bones here and there as well as the suffering through the harsh weather is definitely leading Hans to an earlier grave than he would like to admit, but something compels him to go forward. Something drives him to take the next step, and the next, and the next.

_'…our Lord… guide you…'_

Those words kept on resonating in him; his hands never left the amulet. Who knows how long he has been walking? Why he kept following the makeshift road through the snowy wilderness is beyond him. He hates snow. He loathes cold weather and in his trek, he has met nothing but tall trees covered in snow, the ground he steps on is thick with snow… his face blistering cold and covered in snow. The cold pesters him; _Hans hates winter with indescribable vehemence_. Then something beyond the repetitive showcase of winter wilderness catches Hans' attention: a man made stone pillar of some sort made out of rocks that are stacked up neatly on top of each other. It implies more than a few things like a warning, territory markings, or something far worse; but to Hans, given his situation, it means sanctuary more than anything. Taking his first step towards it, Hans suddenly finding his vision distorting and with that, his head started to get lighter until finally his next attempt to step forward causes him to stumble and fall on the ground. The long and strenuous walk through the foreign land had taken its toll on him and his body is now giving in to all the injuries and all the stress he had endured.

_'….Lord… guide….'_

Tightening his grip on the amulet, Hans finds himself losing himself to the inviting idea of giving in to sleep. The blackness starts to envelop him in its embrace and soon he'll just drift away to the world where dreams reside.

Footsteps. Murmurs. What follows are figures looming over him; studying him and ominously talking amongst each other. Hans could make out a few words here and there but nothing sufficient as to what their intents are; though at least he has an incentive to open his eyes somewhat.

"…pretty thing…" One of them said.

"What is he?" Another male calls out as he leans over to get a closer look at Hans.

"… please…" Hans struggles to get a word out.

"He's barely alive."

"…please… the… Lord…."

"The Lord?"

"T-take… me… to your… Lord…"

The response Hans hears are a few chuckles and some words or names that he does not understand. It hasn't fully hit Hans yet that he isn't in the same world anymore, though seeing the a tan skin man with long ears does help remind him that Skyrim is a different world than his own.

"Pretty wants to see _the Lord_."

"That's the first."

"Poor thing," one of the three reaches for Hans and with some consideration, hoists him up to his feet, "we should take him inside and get him comfortable."

Another joins the first and slings Hans' arm over his shoulder and in doing so, the two drag Hans' unable self towards a cave of some sort.

"What a lovely amulet he is wearing."

"…T-The… Lord…" Hans mutters in an attempt to ward the third one's hand from grabbing it.

"Do you not hear the man, Tuusor? The amulet belongs to the Lord! So do not touch it!"

The one called Tuusor laughs and pulls his hand back in compliance with his ally's words. Despite the amulet not being harassed any further, there were more than enough snickering that Hans finds rather suspicious but isn't really able to focus on since he can feel every inch of his body sore and throbbing in excruciating pain. Though some of the discomfort is alleviated when they are within the boundaries of the cave; the walls closed in and the blistering winds aren't so much attacking every angle of Hans' already beaten and battered body.

"I'll let the 'Lord' know," Tuusor tells his comrades and speaking as if Hans isn't there. "He'll be happy to know that he has his prize."

"You go do that," the one on Hans' left replies with some glee in his tone of voice.

Hans tries to follow the movements of Tuusor despite his staggering vision. Through the claustrophobic 'hall way' of the cave, a grand view of what lies inside meets Hans and he had to put everything he had to focus on the sight of wilderness inside the cave he was brought in. It's a small forest inside the cave complete with the tall and luscious trees, wildlife, river, and the top of the cave open for light to enter. In its own right, this cave with its majestic forest is enchanting and soothing, though something amidst the shadows in the corners that don't sit well with Hans. A dark figure with a crimson glow upon its body strikes a bit of intimidation within Hans; his current 'helpers' not entirely paying attention to it due to them being either oblivious or used to the ominous presence. Though his focus should now be on the campsite near a fallen tree that can almost act like a bridge over the small river.

"There he is, Burac!"

Hans was able to make out Tuusor's voice, which gets his attention to veer towards the pointy-eared man's direction. Though someone else catches Hans' attention and that is the huge hulking figure walking over to him. It doesn't take much for Hans to realize that he is of the same race as Mabub in which Hans has come to know as an 'Orc'. The distinguishable bottom fangs, the greenish skin color, and of course the foul stench of his breath are more prominent as he leans over to Hans.

"You're right," Burac speaks, once again letting Hans take a whiff of his pungent breath, "he is a pretty one."

"He said he is looking for the Lord!"

Hans could feel Burac's coarse fingers lift his face by his chin so that he would come face to face with the Orc. Being this close, Hans takes note of the white markings on his face that can be identified as tribal markings of some sort; it makes his jade eyes stick out more and just by those gaze alone, Hans can decipher something a bit more sinister. The grin that grows on Burac's face confirms the feeling Hans has in terms of this Orc's intent.

"No!"

Hans immediately tried to react but it was too late. The men holding him quickly change their generosity to aggression by slamming him on the ground and forcing him to his front. Any attempt Hans tried to fight is now lost due to the two holding his arms to the ground; of course half way close to passing out and the agonizing injuries doesn't exactly help Hans' cause.

"You are looking for the _Lord_ are you?" From the corner of his eyes, Hans could see Burac walking close to him and starts fiddling with his belt. "Well, here I am, pretty thing and just in time for my _need_ to be satisfied!"

The expression written on Burac's face… the eyes that are gleaming with delight as if a child just saw dessert being served… that grin that is highlighted by his tongue grazing across his lips; that look on Burac's face pierces through Hans and what is to come sends the former prince of the Southern Isles in a frantic mindset. With everything that he could do, Hans struggles and screams, trying his best to ignore the pain all over his body. What pain he is feeling now will be nothing compared to what he is about to feel next; when it happens, it will be the type of pain that pierces through one's being and no amount of blood can shed the humiliation away. Hans screams even more as Tuusor starts working on taking off his pants, diligently working to get the leather straps off of Hans' armor. Slowly the cool air hitting the areas where his armor keeps modesty concealed.

It's going to happen. This Orc will make him _his_.

Then a cold feeling emanated from Hans' chest… no, not form his chest but from the amulet. Amidst the laughter and the shuffling going about, Hans somehow finds his attention focusing straight ahead of him. Within the shadows, that figure once again appears with its faint crimson glow all over its body. For that moment, Hans remains still…

A slight movement from the figure and all of a sudden the hands that are restraining him loosen. Screams follow not too long after and one body falls, and then the other. Hans immediately turns around and sees an arrow hit Burac on his shoulder, on his leg and he falls to the ground in agony. Tuusor attempts to run away in cowardice, but the archer knows the trait and an arrow strikes him down right in the back of his head. For a moment Hans takes in the notion of being saved from such an abhorrent act but seeing Burac struggle to move despite the pain of the arrows, Hans knows that he isn't saved just yet. Quickly, Hans turns to the corpse beside him and grabs the weapon sheathed on the belt and crawling to get the proper range, Hans brings down it down on the orc's groin. On impact, Burac howls in agony, a scream that causes the birds to scatter from the trees. The mace that came down crushed enough of his iron armor to do the damage that was intended.

_But it's not enough_. Hans grits his teeth from the thought of what was about to be done. Gripping the handle tighter, he picks the weapon back up and strikes down on Burac's face, crushing his skull and immediately stopping the orc's yelling. Hans doesn't relent and lifts the bludgeon weapon and hits the mangled face of the orc.

Blood splatters everywhere again but he isn't done. He strikes again.

And again.

_And again._

Finally after one more strike, Hans once again feels the weight of his injuries and fatigue take over, forcing him to release his grip on the mace. Satisfied with the result, Hans falls to the side and could barely keep his eyes open despite the sight of his savior walking towards him. Perhaps if Hans isn't as worn out he would react with a little more movement at the image of a figure clad in a jet black armor. Horned helmet with the hollow eyes paired with body armor with spikes protruding all over it doesn't exactly calm one's nerves.

"Prince Hans," a melancholy feminine voice emerges from the mouth-less helmet, "get properly clothed and follow me. He awaits."

**To Be Continued.**


	8. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen III

It's been a while since I've had someone ride Arvak aside from me. The feeling is foreign and part of me wishes that I should've just not let myself get tangled with the Snow Queen's welfare. Why? Why am I doing this? I take a glance at her again as she rests 'peacefully' in my arms; her head resting on my chest as I keep my free hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her in close, supporting her upper body. Her legs draped on the side of Arvak's neck, conveniently supported by the exposure of Arvak's skeletal frame. I have been studying her face every so often ever since this strange ride home began. There is something about her… something that compelled—compels me to linger my eyes towards her. The pale skin that is insinuating how soft her skin must be; the contrast of her freckles on her face adds some character and doesn't sway one to fully believe she is highborn perfection like the Altmers… the petite suggestive lips that manages to keep its red color despite what has gone down... the form of her nose, prominent and buttoned, another accentuation of her lips that helps define her distinct beauty… then her eyes… although those piercing blue eyes are hidden behind the purple shade of her eyelids at the moment(_a superb form of magic truly shows when one can apply make up perfectly while summoning a shimmering ice 'dress'_), I still remember how it emphasized her expressions… it scintillated with every whim of her magic.

Then that hair. Disheveled in some way, but elegantly and perfectly braided so it keeps her beautiful, platinum blonde hair controlled. Speaking of controlled, is it just me or does the braid somehow magically find itself resting on her left shoulder almost all the time? Then I can't help but notice the snowflake designs that are sparsely decorating her hair… how quaint and fitting… But as I was fixed on the Snow Queen's unconscious face, Arvak lets out a frantic neigh that quickly averts my eyes from the woman and into the road ahead of me; A path that is currently heading towards a spitting chaurus reaper. Pulling on Arvak's reigns and swaying him to swerve, the poisonous attack barely misses me and I nudge my undead horse to tread faster and keep a swerving path to avoid the giant insect, and at the same time not plunge us into deeper waters of the swamp.

"I'm sorry my crimson friend," Muramasa seems to react to the presence of an enemy and it glows through its sheathe, "my hands are full so this would require another way of fighting."

As I veer to the left and avoid another vile spit, I look into the skies and shout, plunging my powers to the insipid afternoon skies. Almost immediately, dark and angry clouds spiral in a particular area where my Thu'um struck, then came the ominous sound of thunder, then bursts of light starts to erupt within the grey clouds until finally it releases a blast of lightning, striking the chaurus reaper and blasting it to smithereens. That was just a sign of what I truly called, what comes next is a strong and aggressive downpour of rain that occasionally smites a hostile mudcrab or chaurus reaper down with lightning bolts. Their deaths are instantaneous and probably far less painful than what I would have given them. Calling the storm to aid me in battle is rare but this situation where I am too much of a hurry to let loose Muramasa is even more so.

Again, I have to adhere to haste. Heljarchen Hall is a long way from where I am and treading through the terrain with an unconscious woman on my undead horse seems to be a point of attracting attention. Shadwomane would for sure be more discreet as a steed, but I learned long ago that having a summoned horse like Arvak has more advantage than not. Nudging him and pulling the Queen closer, we ride faster.

* * *

The rest of the ride posed no more threats but I kept summoning the storm just in case. By the time I reach Stonehills mine, I realize that I am starting to feel the fatigue… the day was long and active; luckily the night sky is almost full and the sun no longer has to bear its unforgiving heat on me. By now I have decided that it's enough shouting … but something catches my attention with my unlikely passenger. For some reason, the raindrops that are hitting her are doing something quite odd to her blue dress. As if the rain is washing away some painted dress, the original attire she was wearing starts to seep through… every drop reforms the darker apparel and the skin that is exposed starts to get covered by the reshaping of her burgundy cloak. Imagine the shock in my face with such a sight, though once again I have spent enough time letting my eyes wander instead of just keeping a headstrong gaze on the road ahead. This woman is indeed full of mysteries… Hope Senna doesn't mind the strange company that I am bringing.

* * *

I pass a giant looking down on the carcass of his mammoth. The dead wolves not too far from it were probably the culprit, and from the looks of their mangled bodies, the giant managed to at least avenge the mammoth's death. Though I never really quite understood the true rapport of giants and their mammoth; the most obvious reason is that they are suppliers of milk/cheese or what not, but other than that, are they like pets to them? Do these gargantuan beings have a sense of sorrow when they loose their precious pet to the scavengers? Here's a better question: are they pets or companions? Cattle or friend? I suppose this isn't the best time to be asking myself those questions. Shaking those thoughts off, I finally find myself arriving to Heljarchen Hall's rear and it's quite a bit of solace to see this place considering it's been sometime since I have visited it. I had this home built for the one reason of having the cold wilderness surround me; the idea of 'isolation' is what I truly sought; to put it simply, there are those times where I wish I can always go back here and stay for a while… but then that urge starts to take over and Muramasa starts to 'speak' to me. Well from what I have gathered, whatever I can find out through my 'means' of information will determine how long I will be staying this time. _Never a dull moment_.

Finally slowing down as we come around the corner, Arvak stops as soon as the front door of Heljarchen Hall is now upon us. Taking hold of the woman, I ease myself off of my steed, planting my feet firmly on the snowy ground before taking another look at her. By now her shimmering blue dress had completely vanished and is replaced by the first dress she was wearing. Again, nothing short of confusion when it comes to how this woman truly does manipulate her magicka… I'd say it's a form of alteration, but who knows? As Arvak vanishes behind me, the front door immediately opens and Senna greets me with her usual stoic expression, though the moment she sees that I have company in my arms, she gives me one of those admonishing looks.

"It's not what you think," I immediately try to refute her thoughts.

"Oh this will be an entertaining story."

"Entertaining, perhaps. But not exactly the norm of what you are expecting."

Senna moves out of the way as I walk through the door letting the warmth of the house greet me. Immediately walking through the entrance room, I make my way towards the stairs on the left hand side of the house.

"Restoration, I assume?" Senna asks as she follows me up the stairs.

"No," I answer tersely. "I don't know," I add just to clearly point out that I really have no idea why I have an unconscious 'Snow Queen' in my arms.

"If not that, then why have you brought her here aside from the norm?"

I stop in the middle of the stairs and make an effort to turn my body so that I would get a view of Senna's face. She doesn't have to see my face to know that it was a pretty valid question that I do not have an answer for. Though I suppose withholding information that I do have doesn't exactly bode well with Senna and it leads to moments where she does nothing but agitate the Oblivion out of me. With that, I take a deep breath and speak.

"She is a woman with the ability to call upon unknown methods of destruction spells," I recall the way she released those waves of cold fire from her hands, "she managed to hold down a dragon with her 'spells', and not to mention she can summon an atronach that is foreign even to me."

"If you did not bring her here to feast on her, then I believe you, but that doesn't make me less curious as to what your other motive is, Onyx."

I glance at the Snow Queen and I dare linger my eyes towards her neck. My tongue slightly grazing the sharp points on my canines… I have fed, I know that much, but that doesn't say much to my _own_ curiosity. Shrugging those thoughts off, I give Senna my attention once again.

"She comes from a foreign land that I do not know about. Her ship has a symbol not familiar with me. And I already talked to you about my observations on her magic, so I suppose like you, I am curious," with those said I continue walking up and make my way towards a bed, "and if it's any consolation to you, _I saved her life_."

There was a moment I paused after saying those words… There's that image of that silhouette destroying the symbol of Skyrim—of me… then that Dunmer's words… I shake it off quickly and continue my way, passing by my Arcane Enchanter room on my left, and towards the first set of beds in this unorthodox house I call '_home'_. The room with two beds seemed like a good place as any other, but it just occurred to me that these aren't the softest beds and with the situation, I shouldn't add more discomfort to her already dreadful day. Why I have a consideration for her still flew pass my reasons, so with that still lingering in my mind, I make a right, pass another storage unit for bottles of mead, small decors, and into the more spacious room with the bed leaned up on the stone wall. Senna walks pass me and takes a moment to study the sleeping woman in my arms by grazing her hand on the woman's face causing her to slightly stir in my arms.

"Her skin is as cold as ice."

"The irony is stark, isn't it?" I say with some sarcasm. "They call her the 'Snow Queen'."

"Snow Queen?" Even with her hood on, I can summarize the amount of confusion within Senna with that dumbfounded look on her face. "And who are _they _that you spoke of?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Of course," by now Senna is taking a gander at the woman's clothing, more particularly, the brooch. "The stone is familiar color and yet it is awfully strange."

"Believe me, this woman's entire wardrobe is as strange as they come."

Senna's entire posture changes and she gives me one of those glances. I shrug my shoulders in return and of course I have to reassure her once again. "If your thoughts are lingering towards what I think it is going then let me reiterate the idea that she isn't my meal. Nor did I even get close to that."

"I suppose lying is out of your character. Then again, you bringing her here for an unknown reason is out of character as well."

"If you are done, I do have things that require my attention."

Senna has gotten accustomed to the way I like to go about things so her reaction was a quick glare before going about with the woman's cloak, unclipping the brooch and working the velvet cloth off. There was some weight behind that clothing article and I felt it; with how intricate and flaunting that burgundy cloak is, one can't deny that it's clothing for royalty. With it off, I gently lay the woman on the bed before turning to Senna as she walks towards the woman's direction.

"I surmise you are going to take care of her," I ask as I pass her.

"Are you going to stay and watch as I tend to her?"

I chuckle slightly at what she implied before staring at the fine cloth that once adorned the woman. From a normal standpoint I may come off as a complete skeever, studying a woman's clothing article, staring at it with an intent as if, but clearly there is something about her magical clothing that piques my interest—something that even the world of dragons, dead overlords, and Daedric gods has not shown me yet. Though something about that thought instigated another thought… Daedric… gods and princes… tilting my head, I notice that Senna is now starting to strip more of the woman's clothing off which… I didn't necessarily asked her to but it is how she 'tends' to situations like this. Retracting my attention from there, I grab the woman's brooch and make my way to the lowest level of Heljarchen Hall where I attend to my more private business that doesn't require a bed. Down the stairs and pass the banquet table (which is never used for the purpose), I open the hatch on the ground to reveal a small set of stairs. Climbing down and closing the said door, the darkness of my private room surrounds me; the only sign of light are the feint glow from the enchanted weapons and armor that are displayed all over. Regardless, the darkness is where I can start my 'work'.

"Come out now," I say with my next step, "it's time to make a bargain."

First it was a flash of light, then flames of violet color follows before a chasm rips in front of me, forming an oblivion gate that allows entrance for a Dremora merchant to pass through.

"So soon?" he says as he eases his way through the glowing hole of the gate. "You must be hungry for a deal."

There's that devious grin etched on his grey and red face as he makes his way towards me, excited of what possible transaction he might be having with me right now.

"This," I say tersely as I show him the brooch.

Conversation has never been what made our rapport but business is. E Every once in a while we might dally in a random conversation about other transactions he has done. It's merely to sate my curiosity for certain items he has that holds some unique enchantments; of course it's very rare that he has an item that overly impresses me, but again, every once in a while. Adhering to my agenda, the Daedra grabs the accessory out of my hand, clutching it with his thumb and index as he pulls it closer, his eyes slightly giving off a glow as he studies it.

"How much are you looking to get for it?"

He finally breaks the few minutes of silence, obviously getting what he needed to weigh in his price. Though I have something else in mind rather than selling it and this is where I'll see if this Daedra can swerve from its clockwork routine.

"It's not for sale," the reaction the Deadra give me is worth it; of course the appalled expression as I rip the brooch off his hand is even more satisfying. "I need you to tell me what you know about it."

"Mortal," he answers with disgust almost immediately after I spoke, "you seem to be confused with what my job is."

"I could argue with you all night but unfortunately I have little time or patience for it. How about I give you my word that you will lay your hand on some Dragon bones," that got his attention, "ones I'm sure you can sell for an extravagant amount compared to what you will buy it for?"

The Dremora's obsession with its 'line of work' sometimes makes me think that it isn't as Daedra as it would like us to believe; perhaps its real self is human and we just see it as this Dremora Merchant because of … whatever whimsical reasons Daedric Princes come up. Its body language and expressions alone is enough to make me believe that we are going to get somewhere to my liking with this encounter.

"Your word, you say, Dragonborn?"

"My word."

"What an interesting word to take considering you pledge your allegiance to certain Princes who are questionable to many."

I shrug, "Give me words I care about so I can live up to mine."

I often try to decipher this one's emotion; trying to see pass the war painted face and through the _demonic_ features; nothing really at most times, but I see a hint of amusement this time around, as if truly crediting me for pulling him in a different route than his normal routine.

"To state the obvious, it is sapphire. Flawless and encased within gold. The jewelry is made for a queen, which is why superb craftsmanship is applied upon it. If you do decide to sell it, I'm sure we can strike a bargain."

I was examining the brooch as he gave me the fine-tuning information that is of no use to me. Of course I took it as an introduction that was necessary, but his last words about striking a bargain gains a rather annoyed expression out of me. Despite him not being able to see my face due to the masque, this Dremora does come with a good read on his clients' mood so he clears his throat before speaking again.

"All that aside, it reeks of a certain aroma that can only be distinguished by those who are familiar with the scent," that was the information I am seeking and I give him my full attention as he goes on. "The beautiful sweet smell of oblivion."

"Oblivion?"

"The scent is faint but clearly it has passed through an oblivion gate."

"Passed through an oblivion gate or came from an Oblivion plane?" it gives me a look of irritation, which I countered by cocking my head, waiting for the Dremora to clarify such a statement.

"The trinket bears no mark of Oblivion. It's too pure and still too profitable for it to have come from Oblivion regardless of which plane."

"Interesting. Care to tell me which of the Princes was kind enough to open a gate? Perhaps Mehrunes again?" who could rule out Mehrunes Dagon as a prime suspect when sigil stones and oblivion gates are around appearing once again?

"That much I can't say. If you let me keep the trinket, I can come back with more information. Maybe I can talk to—"

"No. What you have said was quite enough."

Chances are that the Dremora was going to find a way to keep the brooch if I let it. It might be a merchant but I would know if a Deadra is up to no good. Besides if I needed to ask about Daedras and oblivion gates opening, I have more than enough Daedra royalt to whom I share a rapport with. I was never one to go through a middle person. With that settled in my mind, I walk to the next room and fetch some dragon bones and scales, ready to give my part of the deal. Of course this merchant exuded a rather excited feeling and was more than happy to take them off of my hands before handing me some soul gems as payments. I'm never limited when it comes to dragon remains… the next room overflowing of dragon bones is a testament of that.

"Until you summon me again."

He says in a conniving tone before disappearing from whence he came, leaving me alone within the confines of my 'private room'. For a few moments I contemplate as I stare at the piece of jewelry in my palm. Talks of sigil stones and oblivion gates opening could very well mean that Mehrunes Dagon had replenished himself and is ready to invade—whatever magic keeping him from entering might be broken or perhaps some other prince is trying their hand at what Dagon failed at… who knows? But this woman … sliding the masque off, I place it on the altar next to the shrine of Akatosh… perhaps this altar that I keep around just for the sake of collection does serve more purpose than just mere clutter as it now holds my helmet for a little while. Walking over to the shelves next to my coffin, I grab a red bottle, pull the cork off and as soon as I do, the pungent smell of blood pierces my nostrils almost immediately. Without further delay, I take the bottle and drink the substance, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the sweet flavor as it runs down my throat. It doesn't take long until the remedy takes hold and I can feel the distinct features of vampirism start to retreat from my face… Hunger is a strange thing when it has something to do about being what I am… It's almost like it has no end and reaching the last drop proves just that. I still hunger and a bit confused. Hunger and confusion isn't the best pair…

I let the minutes fly by with me stuck in my thoughts of the events, the woman, the information the Dremora provided, and then of course that image I saw that coincides with the dunmer's words of my 'failure'. Normally these things wouldn't mesmerize me into the depths of my mind, however there is something amiss and I just can't grasp it. Though a few minutes being lost in translation means I have used my time frivolously. Grabbing my masque and sliding it over my face once again, I make my way upstairs and towards the door where I can perhaps deal with the issues I have in swirling within me. As if on cue, Senna descends from the set of stairs and without even trading a word, I hand her the brooch and she speaks what's in her mind.

"I take it that you got more questions than answers?"

"You are correct in that assumption," a few moments of silence is all that greets me before I decide to speak again. "How is the woman?"

"No injuries despite her being bound to a deep sleep. Depending on what she went through, she might need some time to rejuvenate."

I nod. "Was she ravaged?"

"No, and you ask because?"

"For the sake of asking. Jealous I would be curious of such things, Senna?"

"Jealous? Of course not. Frightened, yes. You are volatile as of late with your hunger and the way you handle yourself with some of your needs."

I stare at her for a few moments with that stern but compassionate look she has. Senna has always been that person that dislikes the majority of my actions but does nothing to truly try and deter me from doing it. Of course she is vocal, but there are rarely any sort of attempt to persuade me to do things otherwise; that and she is a rather sensual partner. I'm sure our activities gives her motive _not_ to irritate me. I give her a slight nod before turning towards the door once again.

"I shall return."

"Do make time to care for the her," I was in the process of opening the door but Senna's words pauses my action, "I do not need to know the details, but I can tell the young lady has gone through some things."

"And what makes you think I'll be the one to provide comfort?"

"Let's just say, there is a slight inkling in me that you didn't just bring her here just so you can let her go and fend for herself."

I slightly give Senna my attention by turning my head towards her. She's smiling. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless as if to let me know that she got the best of me through her words. I wanted to say something but didn't really know what to say at the moment so I decide to best just let it be. Pushing the door, I am greeted by the darker skies as night is now upon us. Taking a deep breath, at least now I know that the sun won't be blaring down its tyrannical heat upon me. Now I feel stronger once again and I'm going to need to be as strong as I can be…

…_because I feel that something's starting right now._

**To. Be. Continued.**


	9. Elsa: Seen it All

When Elsa first found out she had magical powers, she thought she had seen it all. The years of adulthood surprised her and being able to make a castle out of ice was definitely a marvelous phenomenon. Then she finds herself in a world where every moment proves to her that there are more things to see and learn. She is learning that there are other forces that may prove far more extravagant than her magic. The moment that just passed is a good example of that thought. The woman named Senna just managed to create a small crater out of the snow with flames that erupted from the piece of paper that she used, melting the snowy ground and creating the place that Elsa can only assume would be her place to bathe. With steam rising and creating a thick layer of steam around them, Elsa looks around and can't help but feel uncomfortable taking a bath outside in the open.

"Why wouldn't a house have a place to bathe in?" Elsa asks one more time as Senna dips her hand in the water.

"If my answers weren't adequate before, perhaps you should direct that question to Onyx."

There was no indication of annoyance in Senna's tone but it was a definite claim that she will no longer delve into the conversation. Still doesn't bode well with Elsa that she has to bathe in an open world behind a stranger's house.

"I can summon an atronach to stand guard."

"N-No… that's not it," Elsa isn't even sure what an atronach is.

"Oh? I can't fathom that it's the harsh weather that's bothering you Elsa, after all, you seem to be composing yourself quite well for someone who isn't a Nord out in the open cold."

"W-what's a _Nord_?"

For a moment Senna stands dumbfounded but gives a warming smile before speaking. "My apologies. I do forget that everything about Skyrim—Tamriel is foreign to you. When you have bathed and perhaps have eaten, I will try and shed some light for you."

Elsa looks down for a moment before giving Senna acknowledgement. Does it truly matter for her to know such things? She has no plans of staying any longer than she has to but to her disdain, she has no idea as to where to begin her journey back home. To make things worse, she isn't really sure where _this world_ is. The only real person that could probably tell her that is Hans and the people he allied himself with but more than likely they're all dead. It was in that moment when she thinks of Hans that the possibility of his death strikes a nerve in her. While she has every reason to be glad, there is something in her that causes the idea to sting… almost as if she feels that he doesn't deserve it. Then that horrific moment when Hans was using her own cloak to torture her enters her mind; the feeling of fighting hopelessly to regain air causes her to clench her hands into fists and almost immediately, the ice all around her starts to react causing odd shapes of pillars forming all around.

"Elsa?"

The voice of Senna takes Elsa away from her reverie and she immediately takes note of the affects of her emotional duress. Staring at her hands for a few moments, she looks up towards Senna with every bit of her composure at play to ensure that she doesn't cause any more distortions.

"I'm alright."

"No, you are not," Senna's response clearly states that Elsa's attempt at lying was unsuccessful. "As I told Onyx, I do not need to know the extent of what you have gone through. The Divines know about the suffering you have endured, however, this isn't the time to try and fool anyone even yourself."

Senna grabs Elsa's right hand and gently grazes her fingers through the feint show of bruises on her wrist. Quickly pulling her hand away, Elsa finds herself tending to the marks the ropes had left on her skin. Once again the images of her dead guards, Hans' taunting, and then the carnage of the previous battle…

"I should bathe," Elsa quickly states as she tries to push the memories away.

Senna stares at her for a few moments before nodding, "If you are still concerned with the open space then perhaps you can use your magic to create some kind of cover. After all, you have started doing so as it is," Senna refers to the ice pillars that formed around them like some gigantic bars to a cell door. "But do remember to take them down. Onyx is very particular about how his land should look."

Elsa responds with a perplexed expression before concurring with Senna's suggestion. With a small movement of her hand, the ice complies and surrounds a particular area, acting like her own walls, protecting her from the open world in some way. From outside the wall of ice, it seems like a smaller tower was created next to Onyx's custom home; coincidentally it stands next to Onyx's own tower above his room where all his enchanting happens.

"I'll make sure to do that."

"Very well. Do you need me to stay or would you like your privacy?"

"If you don't mind," blushing once more, Elsa looks down towards her feet, "I would love privacy."

"Of course. I shall fetch your clothes but I'll stay close. I'll be right outside the wall of ice."

With those words, Senna makes her way through the gap between Elsa's ice walls that she had intentionally put for this reason. As soon as Senna steps out, the said gap closes leaving Elsa alone with only the cold winds and the steaming water to accompany her. Sighing, Elsa slides the towel off of her body and down to her feet. The urge to cover herself still remains prominent since a wall of ice isn't exactly the privacy that she is accustomed to. Though for now, it is what it is and as she dips her foot in the warmth of the water, Elsa starts unbraiding her hair, letting their full form drape behind her as if she is wearing a cape of gold color. Taking one more breath, Elsa then makes her slow process of submerging her body into the crater that was created. Deep enough to reach the top of her breasts and covering her modesty within the heat of the water, at least that's another addition to secure her feeling of privacy. Feeling relaxed with the cathartic water engulfing her, Elsa finds it in her to close her eyes for a moment and leans on the ice behind her; her lower half somewhat floating, her hair hovering along the surface of the water adding aesthetics to what would already be a sensual view for some. Another deep breath comes out of Elsa as her thoughts are back on Arendelle, her people, and her sister.

"I'll be home, Anna. Just try not to get Arendelle into too much trouble," a forced smile emerges from Elsa's face as she mutters those words to herself.

* * *

The taste is sweet despite its texture being quite peculiar. At first Hans was very hesitant but the woman merely gave his ribs a nudge to point out that he is in no condition to truly deny anything she has to offer. The ironic thing is that he has far more grueling injuries than the area she decided to touch, but that one was enough to get him to comply.

"It will suffice until we meet him," she told him, "keep yourself alive or it will all be for naught."

She didn't need words at that moment to intimidate since her presence gives Hans enough chills. If it isn't for her command presence she holds, it's certainly the armor and its demonic designs that give the desired affect of fear. Though her words hinted that whatever she was making him drink, whatever was inside the red bottle, it's enough to ease the pain until a possible medic would present itself. So he drank it and throughout their journey, the woman kept giving him some more. This one would be the fifth one and admittedly, the flavor isn't what compels him to keep drinking it but the feeling it gives him as its warmth spreads all over his body with every gulp. It's almost as if it's healing him; like some kind of enchanted liquid engulfing him in its magic and delivering him the much needed touch of rejuvenation. It probably is such a liquid; with what he has seen, it's more than plausible.

"Where exactly are we going?" Tossing the empty bottle aside, Hans finally decides to ask the question that has been burning in his mind since this woman came to his aid.

"To meet the Lord."

The amulet glows and Hans immediately grabs it. It's a relief that a small action like moving his arm no longer gives him excruciating pain. It's very easy for him to conclude that whatever he has been drinking did have magical healing properties.

"Shouldn't we be riding a horse to get to wherever we are going?"

"Horses will not do," she replies with some disgust for the question, "where we need to go, we'll need something more efficient."

"Such as?"

She doesn't respond, instead she stops all movements completely, which makes Hans stop in his tracks as well. For a few moments only silence ensues but as Hans is about to speak, the woman holds up her hand with the index finger up; it signifies that remaining quiet is what he must adhere to. Shrugging his shoulder and letting out a sigh of disapproval, Hans leans his back on the cave walls as the woman keeps studying something in the distance. To Hans, there is nothing to see past the heavy snowstorm and the trees, but the woman obviously has more insight to these lands than he; obvious from the moment they left the cave where she saved him, their long walk, and finally to this cave where they spent a little less than an hour catching their breath; or at least catching his breath since his injuries had been taking a major toll on him. She knows every way and how to deal with every corner. The woman also seems to have an endurance like no other and the eye of a hawk since any potential threat, whether it be a giant snow cat, or some highwayman, from a distance before they even _became_ a threat, she shot them down from with her bow. Perhaps potential danger lies in the distance and she is merely biding her time; perhaps any minute now she'll grab her bow and shoot just like Hans had witnessed before, but Hans can't truly tell. All he can really do is observe and remain quiet. All he can do in these moments of silence is inadvertently study his surroundings and his companion; or more accurately, study armor she wears from behind. The back holds the same unique and menacing decors that the front holds. The layers on the armor is reinforced with some red glow that pervades all over the her, again adding to the sense of demonic ambiance to her even as she stands still staring into nothing; the crimson glow feeds off pitch black color of the metal, which Hans already knows the jet black color has the capability of camouflaging her when stealth is required.

Though despite all the other unique rivets, sculpting, and the demonic energy it lets off, part of the thing that makes her choice of armor stand out to Hans is the helmet that covers her face; one that has horns that matches the spikes protruding off of her shoulder pads. If it's not the screaming symbol of evil on its design that compels Hans, it's the fact that this helmet has no way to see the woman's face. The eyes are hollow and surrounded in darkness…. No mouth… no facial features to be conveyed. It makes Hans truly wonder what lies inside the helmet and the armor itself; makes him wonder if the strong and aggressive woman is as beautiful as her archery and if she can be manipulated to do his bidding when the opportunity presents itself.

"It is here," she finally speaks.

"What's he—"

Before Hans can finish his question, a familiar sound echoes, followed by the ruffling of the trees and a strong gust of wind blowing their direction. Hans shivered at the bite of the ice-cold wind, his leather armor tattered and almost inadequate due to the damage it took from the battle. The woman however stood taking all the might the cold winds poured their direction, and when the movement has settled, she finally turns her direction to Hans; the hollow dark eyes staring at his.

"Come."

As soon as that word escaped her helmet, she starts moving towards the direction of whatever it was she was waiting for. Reluctant in finding out what just happened behind the trees, Hans follows, his steps not bearing the same pompous confidence that he usually has. More of that pompousness fades away as he gets a full view of what the mysterious woman is talking about. With dread evident in his posture, Hans' fear prevents him from taking another step towards the dragon that just landed.

"You… can't be serious…" The words barely formed.

"It will not harm you," the woman continues to walk towards the beast as she speaks, "it's will is not its own."

The words didn't quite register as Hans is still in trance that a creature like this dragon would truly be in plain sight. From what he has heard through many stories and legends, dragons have been known to devour armies or burn them to death, their wings would span and darken the skies while their claws are sharp and could pierce even through the most durable of armor; every single one of those details remains true as Hans observes this beast. Probably as big as an elephant and twice its length, the wings slightly folded as it remains in a low position, the long neck craned so that it would be staring at his and the woman's direction, those eyes that are every bit daunting as its fangs that are probably as sharp, if not sharper than the blade he has sheathed on his belt. With those details prominent, Hans finds it justified to be covered in terror. Once again the woman signals for him to follow, this time without words but with a gesture of her hand.

"I thought I have seen it all."

With those words muttered, Hans finally makes his daring steps towards the beast as it remains waiting in the middle of the road. The woman by now had climbed its back, settling herself between the crevices of the beast's neck. Hans surmised that he has to do the same thing so gathering more of his courage that is still encumbered by his fear, Hans makes his way up the dragons back.

* * *

Movements in the distance makes Elsa open her eyes in panic; the sound of hooves causes her to move abruptly which makes the water tremble in her sudden reaction. With her still being out in the open, Elsa feels completely vulnerable for more than enough reasons, though as the rider and its steed draws closer, the familiar and ominous glow coming from the said steed relieves Elsa somewhat. Even through the confines of her semi transparent ice walls, Elsa can recognize the unique flames that omit a purple glow. She can even make out the rider's form as he draws closer, and of course how can she not recognize the horns protruding from his head due to the helmet design; and while she might consider him an ally as of the moment, part of her still feels intimidation at the fact that she will have another chance to interact with him. It's most likely due to the fact that he doesn't exude the most comforting mannerism and words. As a matter of fact, Elsa remembers his lack of consideration and his ability to hack through a crowd of grown men with his red blade and the fearsome power he possesses. Suffice to say, Elsa finds herself shrinking back as much as the water would let her without drowning her.

Soon he gets close and he stops just right in front of his house; the direction of his gaze seems to burn through the ice wall and towards Elsa, which of course doesn't help her one bit. Her ambivalence whether to feel 'safe' or scared enhances the moment he makes his first move to get off his horse. As if on cue, the moment he dismounts the strange horse, the sound of a door opening follows. Senna steps out of the house and Elsa can make out a slight acknowledgement through gesture even if there are no words. As much as she would want to pay attention to their 'interaction', her attention is forced towards the skeletal horse. The strange occurrence of having it vanish in a strange light is another testament of the strange magic that occurs in this place. Something she isn't sure she could get used to or would want to. The other thing Elsa isn't quite sure if she can get used to is her savior; the man named Onyx… the chilling sensation she feels as he walks pass her ice walls is incomparable. At the very least he has the decency to know that she needs her privacy by stepping inside the house instead of standing around to gawk. Either he has that said decency or he has other pressing things to attend to inside. Elsa would like to think the first is the reason.

"Elsa," Senna approaches and stops in front of the wall, "your clothes are ready and I shall place them out here."

"Thank you."

"Whenever you are ready, do come inside and eat. Perhaps it would be the best time to speak to Onyx in regards to your situation."

After a few seconds, Elsa finally nods and responds again, "Thank you. I'll be inside immediately."

With those words said, Senna leaves Elsa alone once again by stepping inside herself, but Elsa had decided that she won't be far behind and steps out of the waters and grabs her clothing to make herself presentable. Putting her clothes on (with the exception of her cloak) and fixing her hair back to their regular style, Elsa makes her way inside where she is once again taken aback by the decoration that are mostly weapons hanging on racks and occasional taxidermy of wolf heads. She had a few moments to glance at them earlier but it is only at this moment she has the time to take them all in and just like before, she finds the way the entrance room is decorated rather unorthodox; though from what she has been able to see from walking to her bath earlier, the pattern remains the same all over the house with a few full set of armors standing tall in a couple of corners and other glowing weapons mounted on the walls.

"Come, sit."

Senna's voice carries over from the other room where the dining table resides. Peeling away from observing the war mongering decors, Elsa turns her attention towards the dining area. While Elsa is used to having grand tables that would accommodate banquets, seeing a long table that can sit at least ten people is rather odd in a house that seems like the type for isolated folks like Onyx and Senna. That and seeing only one plate that is partnered with an entire family meal makes the whole scene a bit off-putting. Regardless, it isn't in Elsa's best interest to deny the gratitude and the meal so she immediately sits herself down. When seated, Elsa admires the way the never used table is decorated with a tablecloth of fine material and the candelabra with burning candles. The plates that are filled with a mixture of fruits and bread seems to hold some sort of prestige within their designs; what they are made out of could probably define exactly just how much value they each have. Surprisingly, the utensils doesn't hold the same prestige as the plates and bowl, which stands out to Elsa, being used to all kitchenware matching and showcasing wealth.

"I'm not sure if my cooking will meet the expectations of a queen," Senna says humbly as she starts preparing Elsa's bowl with what she has cooked, "though I am confident that anything I cook will be better than what you have endured the past few hours."

Elsa says nothing as she stares at the soup filled bowl that Senna places in front of her. Still freshly cooked and hot, Elsa catches the savoring scent, which reminds her just how hungry she is. Patiently, she waits for Senna to make herself a bowl but with her placing the serving spoon down implies that Elsa will be having a meal alone.

"I have eaten my fill," Senna tells Elsa as if reading her mind. "You do not have to wait for me."

"Very well, thank you."

Much like the tea, the first taste fills Elsa with curiosity on the ingredients, though the more she eats, the more she decides that sating her hunger is the only thing that matters. Every so often, in between the spoonful of food, Elsa drinks, and for a moment she almost forgot her etiquette on the table. Then again, it's the first time she has ever felt the feeling close to starvation and the first time she has eaten out of the comfort of her kingdom. Taking a break, Elsa leans back on her chair, enjoying the feeling of being replenished. Though pausing eating does make the awkward silence between Elsa and Senna more prominent. The woman occasionally made rounds to tend to whatever the household needed attention, but for the most part, she had remained close to Elsa as if she was a servant meant to take care of the Queen of Arendelle.

"It was delicious," Elsa finally managed some words after clearing her throat, "thank you very much."

"I'm glad you think so," Senna replies with a nod of her head. "You are more than welcome to eat more."

"I've eaten my fill, but thank you."

With another smile, the awkward silence once again surrounds the two of them with Elsa not exactly sure what to do or say. Senna continues to merely sit patiently, occasionally tending to the warm pot over the fire pit next to them. Of course the fire pit that is obviously meant for cooking is another strange feature in this household for Elsa. Having the 'kitchen' literally next to the dining table isn't something she is used to, but having the sound of fire accompany the awkward silence is something of a relief. The said silence would probably have perpetuated if not for the sound of a door opening from the next room. Senna turning her head and standing up makes Elsa's heart skip a beat; the presence of Onyx entering the room almost immediately changed the awkward silence to a tensed feeling; at least for Elsa.

"You do like to take your time," Senna states towards Onyx.

He doesn't respond, at least not with words, only with body language that Senna clearly can decipher quite well. She shrugs her shoulders and starts clearing the table, taking away the food, the used plates, saying 'excuse me' as she reaches over Elsa to clear her side.

"We have to get to your ship," Onyx says bluntly, "let's just hope that the High Queen will comply."

The sudden direct words catches Elsa off guard and the implication behind the said words even more so.

"Wait, why would-?"

"Your captors docked the ship on Solitude grounds," Onyx cuts Elsa off before she was able to finish her question, "it's probably confiscated right now."

"Do you intend to ask nicely, Onyx?" Senna asks.

"Don't start," he responds with some agitation in his tone.

"If your rapport with the High Queen is at least cordial, maybe it would only take kind words to get what you wanted."

Onyx didn't need to use words to convey his irritation with Senna's words. His posture says it all. Elsa herself feels a mixture of angry emotions and states it accordingly.

"This is absurd," both Onyx and Senna turns towards Elsa as she speaks up, "whoever has possession of my property would surely understand that there was kidnapping involved. Besides, all they have to do is recognize my flag and hear news of Arendelle's missing Queen and they'd understand."

"Well that remains to be one of the problems we face, Snow Queen. No one has ever heard of Arendelle before so the chances of anyone knowing you are missing on this end is pretty slim to none."

"Onyx!" Senna calling out to Onyx barely registers within Elsa as she stands up to make a response. The both of them obviously unhappy with Onyx's usage of words and tone.

"What do you mean no one has ever heard of Arendelle?"

"Did I speak in riddles?" Onxy's voice comes off with some condescending tone with it. "This Arendelle of yours is a foreign place… one that doesn't seem to exist anywhere near Skyrim or in Tamriel."

Elsa's face is a mixture of confused, angry, and inquisitive. Once again foreign words bombard a conversation and she isn't quite sure which emotion to lean on to.

"Tamriel? Skyrim?" Elsa decides to act like a Queen and be a bit more inquisitive rather than act out on sheer anger. "Could someone please be a bit more informative?"

"Molag Bal take me!"

"Onyx!" Senna once again cuts in.

"What? A woman who knows nothing about Alduin… of Skyrim… and Tamriel? What would you have me do?"

"You saved her, you brought her here, now we must help her."

The few minutes of Onyx talking had already sent Elsa into anger but Senna has remained to be the balance; the one that seems to truly want to find a way to both support and find a resolution. It makes Elsa feel somewhat relieved though it still brings her to the truth that getting home isn't as easy as reclaiming her ship and sailing back to Arendelle borders. Truthfully, she herself isn't quite sure what route was taken… how it was taken. She remembers that strange moment when she was held prisoner in her own chair and the feeling of a potent and malicious power overtaking her—then waking up in the lighthouse. There was no landmark or any sort of clue to give her that can be provided as to how she was brought to this place called Skyrim. With those thoughts, the feeling of fear and sorrow starts to weigh in heavily.

"I am helping her," Onyx declares, "but I can't say it's exactly the easiest thing to accomplish when we have someone who didn't even know that dragons exist!"

"Excuse me, but I'm standing right here!" Of course being talked about as if she isn't there doesn't give Elsa a reason to be positive either.

"Elsa," Senna speaks through the hostile tone of voices, "is there anything at all you can tell us? Anything your captors said to you?"

The image of Hans appears in her mind again, the only one who could've probably made some sense into things. He came from the same 'world' so perhaps he could've helped with information, but in Elsa's mind, Hans is dead.

"They kept me subdued and imprisoned," Elsa replies keeping Senna's attention, "most of them had very little contact with me except for that Gilaro person and Hans," Elsa trails off for a moment, remembering clearly the fate that consumed them. "Other than the cryptic talk and the taunting, nothing was truly said that I would consider substantial to help in this situation."

"Well that dunmer perhaps could have been useful," Onyx interrupts once again, "though we both know what happened to him."

"You slaughtered everyone else! Including Hans who could've been informative!"

"Hans?"

"Pointing fingers won't get us anywhere," Elsa is glad that Senna is the one who speaks this time since Elsa can feel her powers starting to react to her anger, "so let us calm our nerves, shall we?"

"Well it's pretty clear that the only thing we need to do is reach that ship, one way or another."

"Aside from the obvious use of transportation, anything else in that ship that keeps you adamant at the idea of going to it?"

For a moment Onyx says nothing leaving Senna hanging on his response. For Elsa, it's also quite agitating that the person she is speaking to is not only rude and offensive by default but also keeps his face concealed inside a helmet that reveals nothing about his expression. Also the sculpted face isn't exactly the most charming to look at.

"That ship went through an oblivion gate," and of course what he says makes no sense to Elsa, "how, why, where, or who, I have no idea. The only real base I can start on is perhaps there is some kind of conduit inside that ship that can solidify the accusations of such a statement."

"The merchant told you this?"

"Yes."

Senna blinks and lets out a sigh before speaking, "Then that's all the solidification you need. He may be a daedra, but there are certain things I feel that he won't lie about if it doesn't benefit him."

So much of the topic is lost on Elsa and there is nothing she would rather do more than to ask, scrutinize, and perhaps gain some kind of understanding, but alas no words seems to want to come out. She merely listens to their words and observes their gestures, which in truth, it's about the only thing she can do. Even as silence is the only thing emanating between Onyx and Senna, Elsa just stands there with her hands formed into tight fists. It's not until Onyx makes a movement towards the door that Elsa decides to do/say something since there seems to be a heavy implication that he is leaving without even acknowledging her about the issue.

"I hope you don't think you are going on your own?"

Of course her words and tone came out as sort of demanding and part of her shrinks back at his abrupt movement of turning his head as if angered by it. Again the hollow face is all that answers but Elsa tries her best to remain as vigilant as she can, staring at him with a stern and Queen-like demeanor.

"You seem to have forgotten something, Snow Queen," he speaks with that harsh and condescending tone once again, "outside the walls of my home is a world where you seem to be too inept to handle so the answer is pretty clear."

"You honestly believe that I would let you—"

"Let me? Woman, I do not need you to let me do anything," Onyx's voice strikes harder. "Besides the point is that I'm doing this for your own good."

"Let her accompany you, Onyx."

Elsa's was more than ready to respond but Senna beats her again with the same calm yet commanding tone. With a sigh, Onyx turns her attention to Senna while Elsa is focused on not letting her anger take over completely. Part of her wants to let him feel a bit of her power, but there are a myriad of reasons that makes her believe that it's not the best idea; other than he might be a main factor to getting her home and the fact that he isn't so vulnerable against her powers.

"Senna, you do grasp the possible consequences if she comes with me?"

"I do. But I also understand that Elsa has every reason to go with you."

Elsa wanted to smile and give Senna the gratitude that she deserves for constantly being her only support at the moment, but she keeps her headstrong expression as she continues to stare at Onyx. A big part of her is leaning on staying with Senna rather than accompanying Onyx for a few obvious reasons, however if she is to get back to Arendelle, there are a few things she has to set aside like fear and intimidation, just to name two. Whether she likes it or not, she has to go with him akin to Onyx knowing that Elsa going with him is the more logical reason despite his qualms with the idea.

"I doubt she'll like Arvak," Onyx finally speaks up with a disgruntled tone.

"Seems that Arvak has no qualms with her. His flames didn't seem to harm her on the way home. Though I believe Frost is just a call away if Elsa isn't too fond to ride Arvak at the moment."

As much as Elsa is foreign to most things that Onyx and Senna were talking about, she gained a pretty good grasp on their rapport based off their interaction. While Onyx doesn't exactly fit the type to be ordered around, there seems to be respect for Senna's words; whether it be based on face value fact or because the said respect he holds for her is greater than his pride, Onyx seems to defuse his defensiveness and complies, turning his back and making his way towards the door once again.

"We leave immediately."

Staying true to the definition of immediately, Onyx walks out, leaving the door open as if truly not having any willpower to wait for Elsa at all. Appalled at his behavior, Elsa takes a deep breath before deciding to finally make her way towards her uneasy company, though she is immediately stopped by Senna who grabs Elsa's cloak from a rack and offers to put it on her. With a nod of approval, Senna walks behind Elsa and places it neatly on her shoulders, fixing the neck, and straightening out its form before locking it in place with the brooch. The woman being an exact opposite of Onyx, with how well Senna does the task of a regular servant, which makes Elsa wonder what exactly does Senna really do for Onyx aside from being the balance? Somehow Elsa gets the feeling that Senna takes care of his armor, his clothing, and tends to his needs. She certainly seems like the mother type.

"May Dibella guide you," Senna says as she finishes the final touch on Elsa's cloak, "and may you be patient with a man lost in his own destiny."

For a moment Elsa remains standing still even after her attire is complete. She takes a few moments to truly inhale Senna's words and sadly, she isn't quite sure how to take them so she merely turns to face her and bows her head slightly. Senna reciprocates the gesture and then urges her to follow. Whatever the words meant surely doesn't apply to this moment … or does it? Following Onyx outside, the door closes behind her, leaving her out into the open world of Skyrim where the ebony armored man stands, waiting for her.

* * *

Hans has never been the type to be the passenger of a mount, but this situation dictates that he be the one to hold on tightly to the waist of the rider. More than enough things are out of the norm aside from some loss of pride on Hans' part for having to hold on to a female so tightly; the fact that they are riding a dragon and soaring through the bitter cold sky are probably more important issues than the status quo complex.

"We've been flying for some time now!" Hans shouts as loud as he can so that the woman would hear him through the howling winds. "Are we almost there?!"

Hans expected the same silence to respond to him since that is what this woman had given him every time he had tried to start some kind of conversation during this trip. To his shock, the woman speaks.

"The stronger the winds get, the more it confirms that we will be there to meet him."

"The Lord, I assume?"

There's the silence once more and Hans sighs, giving up at the moment, which is probably the most prudent thing he could've done since something within the blistering winds catches his eyes. A structure of some sort, some kind of ancient building that is hidden in the middle of the raging winds that the two just endured while riding a dragon's back. Hans would've asked what is it, but it seems that the woman is landing the dragon where the said building stands and any questions that Hans has about their destination might be answered soon enough. Bracing himself while trying not to get stabbed by the woman's strange armor, the dragon sets its feet down on an angled slope and not too long after, both Hans and the woman jumps off the beast. Readjusting both footing and equilibrium, Hans takes a few steps away from the dragon as it lets out a sound before finally closing its wings. Being close to this beast will probably be one of those things that Hans will never get used to.

"I was beginning to think that you failed to retrieve this one."

The voice belongs to a silhouette on top of the path; Hans could barely make out the figure but obvious from the tone of voice it's a male.

"The dragon didn't arrive as soon as you had made me believe," the woman responds, raising her tone so that her words would carry over against the harsh climate that is surrounding the very area.

"If it's an apology you seek, then it would be a foolish search, Ahna."

Nearly losing his footing from hearing the name spoken from this stranger, Hans turns towards the woman with eyes wide.

"Ahna?"

She doesn't respond to him, instead she keeps her head poised forward as she keeps her steps with a constant pace. Aggravated from another lack of answer, Hans quickens his pace to catch up to Ahna, his footing nearly stumbling at what seems to be stone steps under the snow.

"There is nothing to be gained by sating your thirst for dragon souls," Ahna admonishes.

"Now I must ask for forgiveness for the inconvenience," there was a sense of sarcasm in the stranger's voice that brings a chill to Hans, "but I do believe I am allowed to have some sustenance after being deprived of them."

"Do what you will but do not make it a habit to delay _his_ will. Has he spoken?"

"He has not. Though with the Prince's arrival, I'm sure he will speak soon."

Both set of eyes are now upon Hans making the uneasiness feeling ascend to new heights. The man walking closer towards him doesn't exactly help the situation one bit, especially when Hans is able to get a glimpse of some of the odd features on half of his face. From all the strange faces that Hans has seen and met, this man adds to that with the half the look of a human with the locks of blonde hair, the matching brows, and the stern face; the other half is distorted, almost reptilian, or for this case, Argonian. The eyes are gold with a thin black line in the middle unlike the round orbs on his other eye. The grin etched on his lips reveals the fangs and a slithering tongue resembling that of a snake. If Hans isn't mistaken he'd guess that he is indeed half Argonian.

"I am Miraak," he speaks pride at the introduction of his name, "and I was summoned by the _Lord_ to help you see your destiny."

**To Be Continued.**


	10. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen IV

If I had missed a second, the dragon-bone-made-weapon would've been detrimental. The small crater created from the impact due to the giant's strength is enough to tell me that this brute is enraged and I seem to be a scapegoat for its anger. With the debris of snow still hovering along with the tremors from the strike, I quickly make use of the giant's lack of speed and rush right behind it, to its blindside, and to the proper area I need to hit. Muramasa glows as I reaffirm my grip, the red shade letting off the haunting sign of its hunger, and as I bring the sharp end across the giant's calf, the tough skin of the colossal figure did not deter the damage I had intended to give it. It stumbles after letting out a screeching bellow of pain, falling to one knee, leaving me to once again contend with the ground trembling below me. I don't dabble in the aftermath of this titan's girth, instead I attack, using its own prone position. Running along its back, and with another swift slash, Muramsa cuts through the back of its neck. Dropping its weapon before letting out one more painful howl, I jump off the colossus as it hits the ground face first with a loud 'thud'.

"Feed."

With my back facing the dead giant, I open my left palm and allow Azura's Star to become tangible through absorbing the soul of my kill. It takes only a few seconds until I can feel its weight as the gem finally gains solid form. The last of the purple energy passes over me and into the Star; the vibrant glow it lets out is an indication that it can no longer support any more souls, which means that my hunt is over. Admittedly, I didn't intend to have a giant hasten my chore. I was more or less searching for wolves, trolls, and whatever else was wondering close to Heljarchen Hall to fill Azura's Star. This giant seems to have had its sight on me. Of course it was inevitable that the battle ended the way it did but I suppose I got some clarification that the rapport between mammoths and giants have more sentiments behind them…

I suppose.

Putting the Daedric Soul Gem away, I decide that it's time to finish my preparations before venturing off to the real task at hand. With Arvak appearing, I jump on his back and with as much speed he possesses, I ride back home.

* * *

I noticed the strange sight from a distance and my first thought was that another brave and foolish soul had dared attack my home in the name of whatever Divine or stupidity they abide by. Whispering the words to detect life, I merely see two auras and judging from the way they are acting at the moment, there seems to be no danger. Senna is still inside the house while the Snow Queen… well, Senna did mention that she would be caring for the woman so I suppose a bath was in the Priestess' list of 'how to take care' of a stranger. I'm more than willing to gamble that the strange ice pillars decorating one side of my house are most likely her way of protecting herself, which doesn't entirely sit well with my sense of aesthetics. As I draw closer, I could tell that the Snow Queen is reacting to my presence and it comes to no surprise that she would _act_ the way she did and she will only get more defensive the closer I get. Getting off of Arvak, the front door opens and Senna greets me with that look that 'tells' me to not gawk. I shrug my shoulder slightly and in response she gives me a sterner look, which of course almost causes me to roll my eyes. Acknowledging that I'll adhere to her silent _'request'_, I make my way inside the house but not before studying the enchanted ice that are uprooted from the ground, acting like walls for the Snow Queen. Through the semi transparent form of the structure, my eyes finds her as hers finds mine… through this obscure eye contact, I once again can catch her vulnerability, her fears, and the innocence that is so distinct in the world of Skyrim. Senna clears her throat and I turn to her, nodding my head before walking pass her.

"Azura is filled, I assume," Senna asks as she closes the door behind her.

"Faster than I anticipated," the giant's stench still lingers in my mind; his death was unnecessary but his rage wasn't to be sated by killing off every wolf in the area. Wonder why he chose me to be his next scapegoat?

"I didn't get the chance to tell you that I have made a batch of poison. The one that you requested a few days ago."

One of the things that people don't know about Senna is that she isn't just a priestess of Dibella. While she had spent the good part of her life devoted to one of the Nines, Senna has other skills that were never truly put to full use until she started living with me. Suffice to say, there are more than one occasion that I deem her skills necessary in my endeavors. This is one of those said occasions.

"It's in your quarters," she says as I pass her alchemy table.

"After all these years living in Skyrim, giants still boggle my mind," instead of replying to her words, I vocalize my thoughts out loud. "I don't know if I was attacked by one because it was mourning the loss of its mammoth, or simply because I was the closest thing to pummel."

For a moment Senna doesn't say anything.

"You need some _sleep_," she tells me sternly, "the lack of it is getting to you."

And I wish that Senna didn't say anything at all rather than that unnecessary quip she just threw at my direction. Not bothering with it anymore, I make my way towards my basement, enjoying the feeling of privacy that this room provides. Though as usual, I don't have the luxury of resting. The Snow Queen is a priority. The moment I laid eyes on her, I felt something and with the Merchant mentioning that the woman's clothing have passed an oblivion gate, it only confirms the thought that this woman doesn't belong in this world. That entails a series of chaos, thus I must find the means to bring her back wherever she came from. Of course it has to be me. Of course whatever strange humor fate has, it sends me a vision of my 'failure', which doesn't entirely leave me with a whole lot of options. I_t has to be me that deals with her presence_. Without really anything to go with and not completely trusting her, my first thought is perhaps finding something on her ship, something that might be able to help me; but Solitude is a good journey ahead and preparing myself is the first step of business.

Vials of poison that Senna prepared, a few blood potions, and some coins are all placed neatly inside the enchanted pouch that Nocturnal rewarded me with. The name 'Abyss' for a Daedric Artifact in the form of a pouch is quite fitting since it seems to not have a limit as to how much items I can place inside despite its small and convenient shape. I can't imagine gallivanting Skyrim carrying all those dragon bones and looted weapons without this pouch… must be an encumbering task, I imagine. Placing the Abyss on my belt, I unsheathe Muramasa, placing it on the table along side Avarice. With Azura's star on my hand, I use the souls I have captured to replenish both my blade and my crossbow, causing the soul gem to lose its physical form again once my weapons are filled. Sheathing Muramasa and Avarice, I make my way to the other room, pass the Blades Armor displayed on the door, and towards the room where the furnace, the grindstone, and my work bench resides. To the far left of the room, I open one of my many storage units where my bolts are held. I quickly replenish before taking one last gander at the room. It's been unused for a while, and perhaps when I find the time I'll go back to working on weapons I have looted… it's a fun pass time, one that I often do not spend enough time doing. Too many things going on, I suppose. The arrival of the Snow Queen and the _warning_ that came with her will definitely set things back for me…

Then again, when was the last time my own time was mine? But is the vision I saw some days ago and a crazed Dunmer's words _really_ that foreboding? Am I truly just bound to prophecies and inadequacies that the whole world revolves on my blade and my voice? I have often asked myself redundantly; it's almost a habit of mine… questions that linger and remain like a companion. Deciding that moping over these thoughts is asinine, I make way back to the kitchen where Senna and the Snow Queen are.

"You do like to take your time," I was hoping Senna would drop the jests and just remain neutral while our 'guest' is in the house, but no. I decide that entertaining her humor will just prolong the nonsensical conversation that I need not get into at the moment.

"We have to get to your ship," instead I go right into what needs to be discussed and done. "Let's just hope that the High Queen will comply. Your captors docked the ship on Solitude grounds, it's probably confiscated right now."

"Do you intend to ask nicely, Onyx?"

While I could ignore the Snow Queen's attempt to talk and inquire, ignoring Senna is almost impossible. She should know better, and she does, though she, just like Serana and Kharjo, has a certain comfort level that seems to pry into my patience. Me merely telling her not to start her sarcasm only encourages her to sprout out more unnecessary comments about my rapport with Elisif; again something I need not from her.

"This is absurd," the sound of another voice aside from Senna elicits an amused expression inside my masque. With that, both Senna and I turn towards the Snow Queen as she speaks, "whoever has possession of my property would surely understand that there was kidnapping involved. Besides, all they have to do is recognize my flag and hear news of Arendelle's missing Queen and they'd understand."

I don't claim to know every corner of Tamriel. In fact, Cyrodiil and Black marsh are probably the other parts of this continent that I can say I have truly _'visited_' aside from Skyrim, which is now where I consider home. Living my life here, I have never heard of Arendelle. Having lived a good few of my younger years in Cyrodiil, nothing about it as well, hiding in Blackmarsh produced nothing of the sort either, and despite how wide Tamriel may be, a place where it keeps a strange mage with undeniable powers in the form of ice and snow would definitely be known all over the continent. She either really passed through an Oblivion gate, from another continent, or she is insane; the prior thought has more evidence, though insanity isn't a far fetched notion either. There were more than enough stories of Sheogorath's gates being opened to let a few _lucky_ victims wander in only to come out lost out of their mind. Though that passion she projects... it's difficult to consider that insanity.

"Well that remains to be one of the problems we face, Snow Queen. No one has ever heard of Arendelle before so the chances of anyone knowing you are missing on this end is pretty slim to none."

My response immediately causes the woman's eyes to widen and it's plainly obvious that more than a few emotions are stirring inside of her. She stands up, the sound of the chair screeching on the ground accompanies her frustrated expression. Her gestures more than insinuates that she isn't very happy with my response nor is Senna.

"Onyx!" I shrug my shoulders at Senna's admonishing.

"What do you mean no one has ever heard of Arendelle?"

"Did I speak in riddles? This Arendelle of yours is a foreign place… one that doesn't seem to exist anywhere near Skyrim or in Tamriel."

The Snow Queen pauses and I watch the emotions course through her face, those eyes wide, staring at me with anger and confusion. It is at this moment I take note that her clothing is lacking the regal burgundy cloak, which is hanging on the wall behind her. While she is missing some of the royal feel with the missing clothing article, her face, despite all those emotions plaguing her, still has that command presence. Her royal lineage I can still believe even if it's hard to swallow the idea that she went through an Oblivion gate.

"Tamriel? Skyrim? Could someone please be a bit more informative?" If she isn't insane with questions like that, then I can almost guarantee that she'll drive me insane.

"Molag Bal take me!"

It's hard _not_ to believe that the woman came from some other unknown place with how much she doesn't know. I would also take note of the idea that she could be playing a ruse, but that much confusion requires a whole lot of acting that no one in Skyrim could possibly perform. Of course it's also quite frustrating that _almost_ every single subject is a foreign idea. I doubt I can hold a conversation with her without ruining my patience. Of course Senna calling my name once again is her attempt to try and calm my nerves.

"What? A woman who knows nothing about Alduin," I reply to Senna, "of Skyrim and Tamriel? What would you have me do?"

"You saved her, you brought her here, now we must help her."

"I am helping her, but I can't say it's exactly the easiest thing to accomplish when we have someone who didn't even know that dragons exist!"

"Excuse me," the woman cuts in, "but I'm standing right here!"

My first thought is to ignore her, but then the need to say something sarcastic became more dominant and I opened my mouth to speak.

"Elsa," but Senna speaks first, "is there anything at all you can tell us? Anything your captors said to you?"

Elsa…

As Elsa speaks about her captivity, I pay attention to her. Not necessarily at her words since they really give me nothing to work with, but I pay close attention to her; her facial expression and the way her body language adds more emotion to her words. There is a soft innocence in the woman… in Elsa; but there is also anguish as well as sadness that spins within that small frame of hers. If it weren't for that fragile face, I would believe that this 'Snow Queen' could be my failure… but the way she handled herself in battle…. Not plausible.

"Well that dunmer perhaps could have been useful," I finally say, "though we both know what happened to him."

"You slaughtered everyone else! Including Hans who could've been informative!" Then that fragile and sad face disappears and turns to anger as she responds to me.

The Hans she speaks of must be that red haired man who has the pompous look to him. Regardless, there isn't much this conversation can offer so I decide to make it known after Senna's third attempt to keep the conversation to a more peaceful decibel.

"Well it's pretty clear that the only thing we need to do is reach that ship, one way or another."

"Aside from the obvious use of transportation, anything else in that ship that keeps you adamant at the idea of going to it?"

I could try and fabricate the story since … _Elsa_ is standing right there. Though, I suppose it's no use as of right now. That ship is probably the only other place I can find something. Besides, Elsa's reaction could be the definitive of another clue that I am missing.

"That ship went through an oblivion gate. How, why, where, or who, I have no idea," I pause before continuing, letting the weight of that message carry itself. "The only real base I can start on is perhaps there is some kind of conduit inside that ship that can solidify the accusations of such a statement."

"The merchant told you this?"

"Yes."

Senna gives me a flabbergasted look; the expression alone is enough to tell me that she knows my plan makes sense but something else is behind it that I am not saying. Though I know she won't question it as much.

"Then that's all the solidification you need. He may be a daedra, but there are certain things I feel that he won't lie about if it doesn't benefit him."

And those words coming from her mouth pretty much tells me that I gained her full approval despite me withholding the vision and Gilaro's words of the Snow Queen being my 'failure'; not that I needed any kind of permission from her or from anyone, but it's a small solace that at least one person in all of Skyrim can at least put some trust in how I handle things. With a small nod, I turn around and make my way towards the door but it seems that someone doesn't like that plan.

"I hope you don't think you are going on your own?"

There was a stark demand in the way that question came out and it causes me to stop immediately. In that instance, I can feel the vibe of the room shift; it was already stern before with the nature of the conversation but now I can feel tension grinding between the three of us. Slowly turning my head, I meet Elsa's gaze. While she stands there with a strong posture that concurs with her unyielding expression, I can decipher intimidation easily and she projects it potently enough for me to take note of it. It's amusing actually… that fire in her blue eyes is something I consider _very_ attracting.

"You seem to have forgotten something, Snow Queen," I could call her by her name but I haven't been properly introduced, "outside the walls of my home is a world where you seem to be too inept to handle so the answer is pretty clear."

"You honestly believe that I would let you—"

"Let me? Woman," the demanding tone I found charming but the idea of 'letting' me do something? **No**. That part I can't let go and I let it be known, "I do not need you to let me do anything. Besides the point is that I'm doing this for your own good."

"Let her accompany you, Onyx."

Then speaks Senna who is apparently going against my wishes. I let out a loud, audible sigh as I stare at her, baffled at the fact that she is actually siding with this woman.

"Senna, you do grasp the possible consequences if she comes with me?" While Elsa may not be familiar of the dangers that lingers, I know Senna is more than aware of it and I am hoping she would use that to reason.

"I do. But I also understand that Elsa has every reason to go with you."

Every reason she says. What reason? I take a moment to linger my attention towards Elsa and notice her determination. I have the same conclusion in regards to her: a naïve and angry woman possessing the power of frost magic beyond my understanding and supposedly carrying the fate of my catastrophe.

"I doubt she'll like Arvak," I say as a final attempt to have Senna stand by my side in this.

"Seems that Arvak has no qualms with her. His flames didn't seem to harm her on the way home. Though I believe Frost is just a call away if Elsa isn't too fond to ride Arvak at the moment."

Realizing that the argument is no longer on my favor and not caring to perpetuate it any more than it already has, I make my way towards the door and into the outside world where I take a deep breath. I'm sure my last words about leaving immediately were enough to give the point that I am agreeing to disagree. Trying to rid myself of the thoughts of that conversation, I concentrate my mind on the unforgiving land of Skyrim; the night itself holds enough precarious threats in every corner and with the last few hours being as strange as they were, I'm sure there will be more than enough _excitement_ to nudge at me in this little journey towards Solitude. Truthfully, I'm more resenting the idea of having to talk to Elisif about gaining formalities of investigating that ship. Though I would imagine I can always adhere to less political methods if need be.

"I am ready, whenever you are."

The sound of the door closing joins Elsa's voice and I slightly turn towards her. While I notice the addition of her burgundy cloak, I make no vocal assessment of it. Instead I take a few steps through the hampering snow of this land.

"Senna mentions that this horse of yours, Arvak, is it?"

"Yes, what of him?"

"She stated that his flames cannot harm—"

"No. Not as long as one is invited to mount him," whether that is verbal or my mental approval, Arvak complies. "But Arvak will not be your horse for this journey."

"Oh? You have another horse?"

The tone of her voice insinuates that she dreads what other horse I may have in my possession. I can tell she is searching the stable for such, but of course it's empty. The domesticated horse that Senna often rides doesn't exactly stay put. In fact, there are times when Frost is a nuisance.

"I have many."

After answering Elsa, I whistle, letting the piercing sound carry itself throughout the open space where any beast can hear that call. Though the said sound does not need to travel far. Frost doesn't venture out where my call can't reach him and in no time, the familiar sounds of his hooves starts coming my direction. Tall and sturdy with color that resembles the dirt-ridden snow, Frost gallops towards me and I meet him halfway where I pet his head as soon as we get in contact. As he always does when seeing me, he nudges my arm with his head, neighing in a friendly and content manner. Not a lot of horses are like Frost, and I must say that for a steed that often wanders away from the stable, he has kept himself alive and have _always_ responded to me calling him.

"Wow," Elsa meekly walks behind me, taking little steps to get close to Frost. "What a magnificent horse."

"Come closer, Frost is friendly to those he deems as such."

"Frost?"

I withhold a chuckle as I respond, "fitting name for a horse you are borrowing doesn't it, Snow Queen?"

By now she is standing by me, stopping from her slow and cautious progress towards Frost. Something I must have said annoyed her, obvious by the expression on her face.

"My name is Elsa," and there it is, the introduction of her name formally, "not Snow Queen. It would go a long way for you to at least acknowledge me by my name."

While I stand firm that this endeavor won't require a whole lot of formalities, the knowledge of names is a start. With a nod, I reciprocate the gesture by telling her my own.

"Onyx."

By now Elsa is close to Frost. The steed responds in a rather friendly manner as I predicted, he nudges Elsa, which leads to her petting his long head, running her hands through his snow white hair on the back of his neck. Frost seems to enjoy her handling and I already have it in my head that she at least has been around horses.

"Senna told me your name," she says with her eyes on me despite her still petting Frost. "I suppose now we have both properly introduced ourselves."

"I suppose we did," what follows is an awkward moment where neither of us doesn't really know what to say. As I said, introduction is the most formality I would say we truly require. "Let's get Frost ready for the ride and after that, we'll go."

Not much else was said as we prepare Frost. As I was about to ask her if she knows how to ride horses, Elsa makes her way on top of Frost, and despite all that clothing and heavy cloak, she gracefully managed to sit herself on top of him. I give her a look (mostly sarcasm) of approval as she seems to have a proud expression on her face. Getting myself on Arvak, I gesture with my head towards the direction we need to take and with that, I take the lead. Elsa follows, riding beside me and we inadvertently make eye contact… well, as much eye contact as she can get through the Masque. I'm still adamant that this is a rather worse idea than it is actually beneficial, but it's too late for that. Somehow, with some odd logic, I agreed to it and so here I am now: in the vast plains of Skyrim riding with a woman who seems to not even know what or where _Skyrim_ is.

* * *

With the exception of one or two sabre cats, the journey has been somewhat quiet, at least for me anyways. For Elsa, every sound, every movement, and just about everything in sight sent her in such an alarm that even Frost complained. Mostly because she is emanating undeniable coldness that even a native beast of Skyrim couldn't endure. Her reactions are amusing to say the least. Even the sight of a giant feral cat being shot down with a crossbow seems out of the norm for her. Dare I describe the hilarity of seeing her face's reaction to a dragon that was flying some distance away? Of course for someone who just found out that dragons exists, the shock of having one decorate the night sky is something to fear. Of course the natives weren't the only things that evoked a reaction out of Elsa. The land itself seemed to have taken her breath away for reasons I do not know. The structures, especially Rannveigh's Fast, the largest structure that we have come across on this path seemed to have piqued her interest more notably. The myriads of things she must be thinking about and want to ask will probably further enhance my amusement for this.

"Over there," I signal her towards the body of water. "A quick rest is all Frost needs."

Elsa says nothing but follows my gesture. Compliance seems to be the one thing she will keep giving me at the moment since I know she realized early in our journey that it would be prudent to do so. I'm still adamant that this task would be better off done on my own, but again, satisfying Senna does sometimes occur. At the very least Elsa knows how to ride a horse and if it comes down to it, her powers, as unique as they are would prove to be of some assistance. Not that I would need her assistance at any point given time anyways. Getting off Arvak, I aid Elsa dismounting before leading Frost to the waters where he can quench his thirst. It has been a non-stop trek so it wouldn't be a bad idea to get a breather. The night still remains dominant and the late hours allow me more time away from the sun, so even I can take a moment. Elsa however isn't entirely embracing the idea of rest, as she remains curious (and scared), her attention wandering all over the vast tundra surrounding us.

"You're freezing the ground," I say to her, startling her. "Will there be a moment that you aren't freezing everything to the point where even a Nord won't complain about how cold it is?"

Elsa looks at the ground before looking at me. Her agitation from my tone is still obvious with the reaction, but more or less she's more concerned with being so vulnerable in a place where _everything_ holds an uncertain level of danger. Part of me believes that she regrets coming with me. She should regret coming with me.

"I seem to have lost a bit of my control ever since I woke up in this place."

She answers with concern, which makes me curious as to the idea of 'control' and what _this place_ may have done. Skyrim does a lot of things to people, I suppose. Skyrim is the place that actually revealed to me what that tugging weight was inside my chest. It answered the questions as to why I had certain things peculiar about me even for being an amalgam of a Breton and Dunmer lineage. It showed me my fate but ironically brought me more questions. More riddles to solve… Elsa is another one of those said riddles, it would seem.

"HELP," from the distance, someone calls out. "SOMEONE! HELP US!"

Once again Elsa's reaction defines what her powers does next. A wave of frost spreads from her feet causing Frost to neigh from almost being hit. Her attention points toward the distressed voice before she turns to me, seeking some sort of action. I simply shrug.

"I certainly hope you're not just going to ignore that?!"

"And I certainly hope you aren't thinking of doing what I think you are going to attempt to do."

The fear and the uncertainty diminish and all that stands in front of me is anger. For a few moments we stand there staring each other down before the said voice calls for help once more, this time with more desperation. That was all Elsa needed apparently to spring her into action. With her cloak swooshing behind her, she runs towards the direction of the voice, completely ignoring the idea that she is still in a very foreign land and responding to what could very well be a trap for any willing idiot to step into it.

"Asinine," is the word I utter before whispering the Thu'um to allow me to detect life.

Past her unique aura, I am able to see that there are four men-like movements not too far away. One of the auras is definitely running, young, desperate, and injured, while the other three are stalking the poor soul. There are no signs of urgency in the hunters by the way their auras are acting. Obviously they are confident that their prey will not produce a whole lot of threat or get away. By now however, Elsa draws near and she has made no attempts to silence her movements thus making the hunters stop on their tracks as they hear and felt the movement of another. Shaking my head, I decide that I should at least get a full view of this. With the black smoke of Boethiah's blessing covering me, I rush towards the scene.

"Who's there," one of the hunters calls out.

"Please," I witness a boy running towards Elsa and she catches him in her arms without any thought that it could be a trick. "Please…. Please help us…"

I stand not too far away, hidden by shadows, and getting a good enough view of the situation. From where I am I notice the injuries this young Redguard boy had gained from his captors. The desperation in the way he clings on to Elsa is another testament of the suffering he had endured from the three who are now stalking Elsa and him with sinister grins etched in their faces. One Redguard, a Dunmer, and a Khajiit. It doesn't take much to decipher that they are scavengers, obvious by the combination of their armor and weapons.

"It's alright," Elsa comforts the boy despite the situation, "you're alright."

"Oh what is this," the dunmer had already pulled out his blade before speaking with the same curiosity that is etched on his face.

"Stay back," threatening from the position she's in and clutching the boy doesn't make her intimidating at all. "I won't let you harm the boy anymore than you already have!"

I have the urge to bury my face into my palm but refrain from doing so.

"Noble blood," the female Khajiit snickers. "She would make for a good price."

"The cage won't be a fitting place for her to sleep in," the Redguard adds in with words that confirm what I assumed they are involved in: slave trading.

"She'll be sleeping in my—!"

The Dunmer doesn't get the chance to finish that sentence since Elsa makes the first move, covering the dark elf with ice, leaving his face protruding out of his ice-body prison. While it takes away movements altogether, Elsa does make two lethal mistake and the first one is giving her two other assailants the time to react from such an attack.

"She's a mage!"

The Redguard is already on his way with his weapon leading the charge and the Khajiit is preparing her bow to fire an arrow. Bracing the young boy close to her, a wall of ice blocks the arrow, which leaves Elsa to deal with the coming Redguard by propelling him away with a force of frost magic from her hand. He lands some distance away with a thud, most likely encased in an ice cocoon like the Dunmer. Meanwhile the archer tries her hardest to get a clear shot but with a mere touch on the ground, Elsa sends a trail of ice that slithers towards the Khajiit and encases her, trapping her effectively, allowing only the complaints of being cold to escape her mouth. As I remain hidden, I have just witnessed Elsa take care of three reckless and ignorant criminals without even letting the boy go from her arms. I won't lie, I'm partially impressed but the first lethal mistake she committed is going to catch up real soon.

"Please," the boy keeps sobbing, "please help us…"

"You're alright," Elsa comforts the child as he nuzzles to her, completely focusing her attention on him. "We'll help you."

I cock a brow at the usage of _'we'_ as Elsa takes the boy into her arms walks towards the direction of where we were. To some degree, it's kind of a serene scene with a woman carrying a young boy in the safety of her arms. As I said, I was slightly impressed with how she handled the likes of them without even causing a single mortal wound. Though oblivious at the fact that the Dunmer is a battlemage, the flame cloak has been slowly melting his ice prison. I had felt him summon his ancestral gift and the common fire spell, which, truth to be told is still rather weak since it's taking him this long to even get somewhere. He's lucky he wasn't dealing with me to begin with, though that luck has run dry. Having loaded Avarice with a bolt a few minutes ago, I aim as soon as the Dunmer breaks free and makes his attempt at taking Elsa's life. He only managed two steps before falls down from having a bolt strike him in the head. Elsa only got the chance to react as soon as she heard his body fall to the ground.

"Running blindly to a stranger's aid is what you do in Arendelle, Elsa?"

By now I make my presence be known as I load Avarice once more. She stares at the dead body of her former assailant not too far away from her cloak before turning to me with narrowed eyes.

"You were there the whole time?!"

"More or less," I aim the crossbow at the Khajiit who tries her best to plead despite the cold taking over most of her senses. "A little advice," I shoot, "don't make these mistakes again."

She turns away the moment the bolt hits the Khajiit, her hands covering the boy's frightened eyes. Summoning a spectral wolf, I send the familiar towards the direction of the Redguard whom Elsa sent flying at a certain direction. In his prone position, it would be easy enough for the ghastly wolf to slay him.

"You could have helped the moment you heard him scream for aid!"

"I thought we agreed to go to Solitude so that we can gain some footing towards sending you home?"

It didn't take long until my familiar finds its prey. The agonizing scream only lasted a few seconds as well. Wolves, summoned or natural usually knows how to go for the proper vital areas if given the chance and so it took the Redguard by the throat but not before allowing it a moment of fright. Hearing his scream, Elsa cringes, once again comforting the child.

"You have no sympathy," it wasn't a question this time, it was a statement. A statement with a very _very_ cold glare to accompany the words. "They would have tortured this poor boy some more if they caught him."

"Luckily they didn't."

Luck. Oh Senna, would you be smiling now and preach to me about how Dibella has not given up on me yet?

"You… are the Dragonborn," the young Redguard manages to say between his sobs.

"I am."

The boy makes a movement from Elsa's hold and I can tell that the Snow Queen already had a hard time holding his weight when the adrenaline started wearing off. The boy is no Orc or Nord so his weight wouldn't be an issue for the norm but if one were built like Elsa, I would assume strength would not be one of her redeeming qualities. Slowly lowering herself and getting the hint of the boy's movements, Elsa allows the boy to stand on his own feet despite the painful effort of doing so. At the youngest he is six, but I can gamble he is older; though age as I know isn't usually a factor to someone's mentality. One can look like a child and yet have the thought process of an adult, because of the things he has seen. The majority of children I have come across have seen and felt things that no child ever should have. If this little boy wasn't part of that unlucky group before, he surely is now. Just the look in his eyes tells it all.

"Mama and papa tell me that you aren't a hero."

That isn't the first time I heard that and truthfully, I have disclaimed the songs and poems of me being one. Placing Avarice on its holster behind me, I abstain from responding; instead I stare at the child as he stares at me. He waits for an answer and I'm sure Elsa does as well.

"Can you prove them wrong?"

He points pass me and towards the area where I would assume is where I am supposed to prove his parents wrong. There are plenty of things that could come out of the idea of 'helping' this child and 'proving' his parents wrong. Truthfully, I wish I never came across this situation, but thanks to Elsa I'm now part of it. Sighing to myself, I take a glance at Elsa who has a very firm expression. Obviously there is only one answer in her mind and to my dismay I doubt she can be persuaded otherwise.

"Your parents are right," I answer, "I'm no hero."

"You're not going to help him?!"

The young boy deserves credit for his ability to hold in his emotions. Elsa on the other hand is a different story and once again she glances at my direction with narrowed, dangerous eyes.

"I didn't say that," I turn towards the direction where the boy pointed. "However the idea of 'hero' in Skyrim's eyes isn't how I deal with slavers and anyone I deem needs slaying. So in that sense, I can't prove your parents wrong, child."

There is no sense in ignoring this now. Around the corner is another popular little hole that is infamous for these kinds of dealings. Eventually I would have dealt with it… I suppose eventually came tonight, no thanks to the Snow Queen and her unorthodox ways of dealing with things.

**To Be Continued.**


	11. Elsa: Of Blood and Shadow

The boy's grip is strong despite his size. Every step he takes is filled with urgency, and Elsa finds herself having to hasten her pace just to keep up with him. For someone who obviously has endured horrific things quite recently, the boy has kept the majority of his disdain within. Elsa expected more tears, more need for comfort, but the moment he found out that the Dragonborn is among them, he seemed to have regained some vigor. The young boy also has more stomach for seeing a dead body than Elsa, obvious by the lack of any reaction from seeing Onyx standing over his latest kill who was standing guard in front of the entrance. Watching Onyx pull the bolt out of the carcass' head does nothing to soothe the visceral sight either.

"They should know by now that a lone guard in the middle of the night doesn't exactly do anything," Onyx nonchalantly states while loading his crossbow with the same bloody and well-used bolt. "Ennrk, you are certain of the numbers you spoke of?"

"I think so," the boy answers with as much confidence as he can. "I tried to count… to remember…"

Frustration seems to seep out of Ennrk as he tries harder to remember, but the act of trying also touches on the traumatic things that were done to him. Feeling the utmost pity, Elsa crouches down and puts her hand on the boy's shoulder while lifting his head up so that their gaze would meet.

"It's alright," Elsa tries to say with a smile, trying her best to ignore the black eye and the gaunt look on the little boy's face. "You did good. We'll save your parents."

"We?" there was a hint of disgust in Onyx's tone, which brings Elsa to turn to him with a reciprocating expression.

"Yes we—" before she can finish her sentence, however, Onyx brings his index finger to the 'mouth' of his helmet, signifying silence. Now that she thinks about it, he was speaking on a lower tone.

"Some of them are not too far away inside," he points inside the cave.

Part of her wonders how he would know that, but decides that it's best to move on to the more important subject. Nodding her head, she speaks with a lower tone, "I'm going with you."

"… Very well," Onyx replies after a few seconds of silence. "However you'll have to stay close."

Bewildered by the fact that Onyx isn't arguing with her, Elsa stands there for a few seconds, staring at those hollow eyes his helmet offers. With how low his voice was, she couldn't quite decipher any sort of sarcasm, though most likely he still disagrees with her. Without much else to say about the situation, she nods her head once more and offers her hand towards Ennrk so that they may be on their way. However to her surprise, Onyx crouches so that he would be head level with the young boy and offers him a white bottle; where he got the bottle from confuses her quite a bit since it's too big to fit in any of his pouches.

"Drink this," he tells the boy. "After doing so, I need you to stay behind this wagon, and _do not _move."

Ennrk took a few moments to study the wagon and once again Elsa recognizes the dreadful look in the boy's eyes. It's no hard feat to realize that the wagon with the makeshift cage built on it was the obvious mode of transportation used for him and his family. Large, sturdy, and made to be dragged by a horse, Elsa cringes at just how many innocent people were hauled off with it.

"You're not thinking of leaving him out here alone?" of course keeping her voice low was hard with such a question.

"Your plan of bringing the boy inside is not a better idea."

"I didn't say I enjoyed the idea however—"

"However he is safer out here."

Elsa wanted to argue some more but she knows that they are wasting time. Taking a deep breath, she turns to face Ennrk who already started drinking whatever Onyx gave him. To her shock, the liquid somehow affected her vision and the boy vanishes in plain sight.

"How?" Elsa asks but Onyx hardly acknowledges her.

"Do not move. We will return shortly."

The fact that he was talking to Ennrk as if he was there concludes that whatever he drank made him invisible to Elsa's eyes. Once again more things to comprehend that she isn't quite sure she will be able to at the given moment. Turning her attention to Onyx, he gives her a gesture and makes his way inside the cave with Elsa following close behind him.

"Stay low," he tells her as he lowers himself as they take their first steps inside. Though the moment they start going deeper, he grabs her wrist, which nearly causes her to gasp.

"What are you—?"

Before Elsa can finish her whisper, black smoke starts to engulf Onyx from head to toe, rendering him like a shadow, fitting for the darker confines inside the cave. In the dark, he almost seems invisible, which was most likely his means of keeping himself concealed as he watched Elsa's skirmish with the three slavers earlier. While the image of Onyx merging with the darkness is a baffling sight, what's even more surprising is that Elsa herself is surrounded by the same magic. The act of holding her wrist distributed whatever strange enchantment he is able to summon.

"Close to me."

Onyx tells her in a much lower tone of voice and she merely nods, deciding that the cold feeling of his magic is beneficial for this endeavor. Leading her by hand, the two take slow and tedious steps, trekking forward, getting deeper into the cave. It doesn't take long until Elsa starts hearing sounds of what are obviously voices, laughter, and some odd howling in the distance. Light also starts to pierce through and not too long after, Elsa manages to catch a sight of a man made structure inside the cave and a bonfire with three figures around it, having a good time, completely oblivious of their companion's death outside the cave. They seem to be too lost in their own conversation that they don't notice as the two get closer and closer. Then out of nowhere Onyx pulls her abruptly to the cave wall, causing her to stumble and almost letting out a gasp. If it weren't for Onyx's cold metal hand covering her mouth the three probably would have been clued in to their presence; maybe. Onyx did pull her behind a wall that would shield them from plain sight.

"Stay."

The word barely registered in Elsa's ears with how low he said it. Still a bit shocked from the sudden movement, she nods behind his grip. Taking his hand away slowly after her response, Elsa takes a deep breath and watches as Onyx backs away with cautious steps. As the distance grows between them, the cold foreign feeling that was surrounding her suddenly vanishes and she quickly realizes that she is no longer 'protected' by his strange magic. Strange magic indeed as she finds herself unable to even hear him stepping or even see him. The darkness of the cave surely helps and it's not until she carefully peaks her head behind the wall that she could almost make out a shadow moving, though she has to try really hard to even notice a slight movement. With her heart pounding, she can almost feel her powers wanting to emerge from the anticipation of what is about to happen.

"… You won't believe it!"

"I do believe it you idiot! I was there!"

A roar of laughter echoes from all three as they stand around the fire, cackling, sharing stories, and obnoxiously laughing while the shadow that is Onyx draws closer. Another joke omits from the loudest one and before he can burst out in laughter, Onyx takes him by the head, pulling him back, stretching and exposing his throat and with a quick cut, Onyx ends his life in seconds. As blood cascades on the floor, before his companions even have the moment to blink and react, Onyx moves by hurling the small blade he used from his first kill. The tallest one receives the said blade right between his eyes. His appalled expression is the last thing he manages before falling on the ground. The third has his hand on his weapon, but Onyx is already upon him. He is too quick to be seen and even quicker at striking the last man down. Whatever he used, the man fell, lifeless, and joining his two companions in death. While her view wasn't very clear, Elsa saw it all. During the whole ordeal, she watched as Onyx once again demonstrated another set of skill he possesses: the ability to perform quick and multiple murders.

"You should join the fun," a raspy voice emerges from the other end of the cave, casually walking down the man made stairs. "That former guard is—"

If it wasn't the sight of Onyx, it's the sight of his dead companions that causes the new comer to gawk for a few seconds before reaching for his weapon. Reacting as fast as she can, Elsa jumps out of her cover and hurls her ice powers towards the reptilian figure. Though by the time she was able to even summon her magic, Onyx had already shot the man with his crossbow; the bolt sticking out on the side of his head as he falls on the ground, leaving Elsa's frost to hit the shelving, resulting to whatever was on the said shelves flying everywhere in a heap of mess, causing a ruckus both audibly and visually. Onyx's reaction is a stern and very rigid body language; his hollow eyes glaring right at her (or so it seems) and Elsa can feel herself slightly shrinking away from what she had just caused.

"Sorry…"

She manages to say but Onyx responds by once again giving her the 'hush' gesture, only this time there was definitely a sense of annoyance within him. With a signal, Onyx moves forward, walking up the wooden ramp, avoiding the mess, moving with as much haste but caution as he can. Taking a deep breath, Elsa treads along, trying her best to ignore the dead bodies that are now surrounding the bonfire. Having spent just a mere second looking that direction, she fights every urge to gag, and the process becomes harder as she finds herself in a position where she has to step over the last person that Onyx shot. Avoiding the body is a hard task with it being right in the middle of the path, and what makes it even worse is that her clothing does not exactly aid her in the act of haste and stealth, thus making the process of just following Onyx an awkward task. With her cloak dragging behind her, it finally catches a few items that were once on the shelves that Elsa struck. The sound they make causes Elsa to flinch and once again whatever clandestine method they were trying to abide by must be compromised by now especially if there were more assailants deeper in the cave. Though there are more sounds reverberating within the cave that are more prominent than the ruckus she is causing. Elsa quickly deciphers the sound as more laughter accompanied by screams of agony… a tormenting sound that reminds her of Ennrk's battered body, his discolored face, and malnourished look. Somehow, the dead bodies left behind by Onyx doesn't seem to bother her as much.

"You scream like a woman," the laughter is now becoming recognizable words to Elsa as she and Onyx draws closer. "You put that much shame in front of your wife and daughter?"

With what those words imply, Elsa puts more urgency in her steps, caring less and less about the sound she is dragging behind her. When one of the plates makes too much noise, Onyx immediately grabs her by the wrist once again and pulls her, hastening their trek through the makeshift dining area (one with an oddly placed weapons rack in the corner) and finally stepping back to more 'natural cave grounds'.

"Are you sure none of you heard what I heard?" someone, most likely one of the captors utter out.

By now Elsa is once again coated with Onyx's magic. Their scurrying through the cave isn't making one bit of sound, which makes the groaning and the sobbing sounds of what most likely are from the prisoners echo even louder in Elsa's ears. Though it's safe to say with the words one of the captors said signifies that Elsa made more than enough noise to compromise the intent of keeping their presence a secret.

"I'm telling you, it was just your imagination."

"Ulaat!"

Onyx leads Elsa to another man made area and towards the ledge where they remain crouching behind a poorly made wooden frame. With careful hands, Onyx grasps his crossbow, while his eyes peeking through the small cracks on the wood.

"Ulaat!"

The people they came to deal with are just over the ledge and Elsa cringes as one of them shouts again. Her heart beating faster than normal with the thought of only a few wooden boards to keep hers and Onyx's presence out of sight; that and of course Onyx's strange magic.

"What is that pond-scum doing?"

The sound of sobbing immediately redirects the attention of the captors towards their prisoners, which in turn gives Onyx what he needs to make his first move. Elsa nods as he points to her then to the ground, an obvious silent signal of 'stay put'. It's not exactly what she wants to do, but at the same time, she already saw what he was capable of when he dealt with things silently and alone. Though the constant sobbing of what seems to be a woman and a child keeps piercing her ears and so the moment Onyx makes his slow trek towards the stairs, she herself peeks through the small cracks to get some kind of view. Despite how tiny the cracks are they give enough space to allow Elsa to catch the sight of a woman barely clothed with dirt-ridden rags encased in a cage. A cage so low to the ground that the dark skinned woman is forced to double over, her chest touching her knees in an uncomfortable position. Her hands grasping the bars of her prison as her attention seems to be directed ahead of her. Another cage not too far away from her holds a little girl, no more than four. If Elsa is to guess, she is Ennrk's sister that he spoke of. The sight of someone like her inside a small rusty cage and barely clothed is dejecting beyond what Elsa's mind can grasp.

"No more left in this one."

"P-please… don't.." the woman cries while reaching out with her trembling hands, "don't hurt… him… anymore…."

"I don't think that's possible," accompanying the voice, a cringing sound of bone hitting bone echoes which forces Elsa's attention towards the sound. "I think we have beaten him dead, woman."

A low and desperate groan omits from a naked man hanging on his wrist by chains. Despite the man's head sagging low, Elsa can make out the blood dripping profusely from his swollen and morbid looking face. The woman in the cage lets out a sound of relief despite her obviously wanting to cry some more.

"Marrying a city guard who made it a habit to poke into someone else's business," another voice joins in, "that's just bad luck, lady. Now your whole entire family is suffering thanks to your husband's stupidity."

A third person joins the taunting, tapping into the little girl's cage causing her to shriek in fear, "just so happens this one's older brother followed his father's footsteps. Bet you Norlar and the others are on their way to drag that one back here."

"Yeah! And we'll teach that boy some lesson that his parents never taught him!"

To Elsa, the mocking from the kidnappers weren't the ones that truly affected her. From her view point, watching the woman crying helplessly as they said those words, the little girl who is cowering, the man who is obviously beaten half to death… Ennrk's plight as he ran to her arms… those are the things that keeps hammering her head. What horrifying things has this family endured throughout their captivity? The torture of having to see one's loved one beaten, ridiculed, and mocked. The fact that the children had to watch their parents degraded to mere playthings for these peoples' sadistic sense of entertainment. They have no qualms in taking pleasure with the suffering of others and the fact that one of them is using the little girl's cage to lean one of his feet as he stands there laughing—These are the things that Elsa abhors and fears; the ones that she hasn't personally seen but only heard of. And the fact that they are in front of her now… clenching her fists as tightly as her rage would let her, Elsa's powers erupts in concurrence with her emotion.

"Stop!"

Elsa yells as she stands up and let loose a wave of frost, hitting the one standing on the little girl's cage. He flies across, hitting the wall in a painful snarl and almost immediately the others react, weapons drawn and arrows fly. It's not her instincts that saved her from the arrows but her powers. They form yet another barrier of thick ice, shielding her properly, giving her the safety she needed before crouching down for cover. Eventually the ice shatters but at least she's somewhat out of harm's way.

"So much for discretion," of course Onyx's tone would be laced with annoyance. "I suppose this is also how you deal with this kind of situations in Arendelle? It's quite efficient, if you were not concerned about the hostages."

There were plenty of things that are running through Elsa's mind to truly concoct some kind of response. The truth is, Arendelle did have its problems, but she was never truly exposed to it. Dealing with things hands on wasn't exactly what she did. Though one thing remains clear is that she cares about the welfare of the captives, her reaction is a testament of that despite the result saying otherwise.

"He's dead!"

Beyond the frantic cries of the woman and the little girl, an angry slaver yells the fact that Elsa didn't want to hear. Instinctively, she looks at her trembling hands as if the blood would actually be smeared in her palms.

"You've made a horrible mistake!"

"Whoever you are, you're dead!"

Shaking the thought of previous action, Elsa prepares to fire again, hoping this time the result isn't anything like before. But she pauses immediately seeing the situation change for the worse.

"Come out," one of them, the man clad in full armor, is now upon the badly beaten man with his blade pointing at the prisoner's throat. "You do as I say and at least they won't have to see this right now."

Without hesitation, Elsa retracts her powers and admonishes herself for her stupidity. In her mind, she has no choice _but_ to comply with their demands. If she can give the prisoners a moment of solace, perhaps this is the only way. Letting out a 'tsk', Elsa prepares to reveal herself, but something amidst the air causes her to stop. An eerie sensation causes a shiver down her spine and the origin of the said feeling is coming from Onyx's direction who is still crouched down not too far away from her. While he exudes nothing odd gesture wise, the energy emanating from him causes every light available in the cave to dim momentarily; the bonfire, the small flames in the lanterns and torches, every single one of them flickers and the shadows seems to shift ominously. The chills Elsa feels ascends to dread as the sight of a figure in black appears standing over Onyx.

_"My Listener," _the voice was that of a man but it echoes like a ghost from the grave, "_my blade is yours_."

A spectral of a man donning a full black robe with some kind of blade in his left hand; the sight of him alone is more than enough to make Elsa weary of his presence. Though the moment he turns his head towards Elsa, she gasps at what she sees: a face scarred, burned, mauled, and tortured beyond recognition of a human face. At one moment she sees just that, a disfigured face but then it shifts into a skeleton with decaying flesh, then to a normal looking man with an ominous grin and hollow black eyes. Every bit of Elsa's instinct tells her to run away as the hooded ghost stares at her for far too long, but Onyx's small hand gesture sends the spectral off; he vanishes within the darkness and in no time it's apparent where he has gone off to. The cave darkens once more for a moment, but the moment is all what was needed and the screams of both captors and their hostage starts to echo within the cave. Uncertain and dreading what could be happening, Elsa stands up only to find Onyx gripping her wrist and pulling her down, keeping her eyes away from what is happening over the ledge. She tries to pull away and get free from his hand but no avail. When the darkness lifts completely, he releases her, sending her to stumble back.

"What… what have you done?!"

Onyx doesn't reply, but the sound of sobbing answers for him. Standing up and looking down, Elsa sees a horrific sight of four men slaughtered, three lying on a pool of blood, one in cased in a cocoon of spiked ice. While that image is enough to make her want to throw up, the fact that the prisoners are alive despite horribly traumatized by whatever the specter did is more than enough to give her some relief. At least the figure in black didn't harm the already damaged family.

"_Listener_."

The specter is now standing in front of Onyx, bowing his head with his hands clasped together in front of him. Onyx, who is now standing himself, reciprocates the gesture.

"Lucien," Onyx states as he performs his action of nodding his head.

_"She has been waiting for a long time for you to listen again."_

"Your deed is done. Go back to the void."

While Elsa heard the words, the meaning behind them are lost in translation for the simple fact that the presence of the specter brought an undeniable ambiance of _evil_. The feeling multiplies when he looks pass Onyx and his hollow eyes are now staring at Elsa. Again she gets the shifting image of a tortured face to the insidious grinning expression.

_"The Dread Father works through me," _he says while his gaze remains on Elsa. _"And his work has just begun. Hail Sithis."_

The words linger even after he vanishes in a blink of an eye within the confines of shadows and strange magic. For a minute or two, Elsa stands behind Onyx unable to utter a word or force a movement. It's not until the woman below starts trying to speak to her husband chained to the wall that Elsa reacts. Running past Onyx, she makes her way down to do what they came to do: to save Ennrk's family. Whatever means they went about it was obviously going to be bloodier, brutal, and something that would do justice for what was done to the young boy and his family.

"_It had to be done," _she tells herself as she takes a momentary gander at the body impaled by a handful of ice shards, _"it had to be done…"_

As Elsa steps over the body of the man clad in full metal armor, she notices the details of his death all too well. The throat was cut with fine efficiency, which allowed passing to be quick and agonizing. The other two ran into a few more cuts in the areas of their body that were not protected by the meager armor they wore, but the killing blow remained the same. Despite Elsa feeling some sort of solace that they are no longer alive, the uneasy truce between cold-blooded murder and justice still festers within her. To her companion however, this was a norm but to her… to save innocent lives means to take a few more? Of course in tight situations, it must be done. The answer is simple enough and she had to keep answering the questions for herself to not mind the fact that she just committed murder more than once in a small amount of time. She had to keep answering those questions because as of right now, she is having a hard time with the idea that her only means to get home may lie in the hands of someone who has _every_ ability and mindset to performing the heinous deed of taking another life without any remorse.

"Thank… the Divines," the woman cries out to Elsa, taking her out of her thoughts immediately. "Please… help Trasl..."

The man named Trasl lets out a slight groan. The chains holding him rattling as he attempts to lift his head but obviously the torture he suffered are taking their toll.

"Gawking at them doesn't help," Onyx tells her as he is now upon the cage of the child. "Free him from those chains and I'll get these two out."

Not minding the offensive way he demanded, Elsa goes on to freeing the man using her powers to freeze the chains to the point of becoming brittle and break. Eventually she manages to do the job and she catches Trasl, his weight causing Elsa to ease the both of them to the ground where she is horrified at the view of his bloody and swollen face. The duration of torture must have lasted for a few hours and he would need initial care otherwise he is in great danger. Before long, the woman is freed from her cage and she runs to her husband's side. Her cries are resonating with both relief and dread. Her trembling form are now encased with him, and the sight is more than enough to evoke small tears from Elsa as she slowly backs away and let the moment just be theirs.

"Give this to them," turning to face him as he speaks, Elsa is gets a sight of something she didn't expect. "We will leave as soon as possible."

Elsa can barely focus on the two red bottles that Onyx is handing her since the sight of the little girl leaning on him as he crouches down is something of a paradigm shift. Like a toddler clutching her bottle, she drinks the red bottle comfortably as she leans her head on Onyx's lap not bothered by the armor pressed up on her face.

"The man suffers," he snaps at her causing her to shake off her gaze. "Do something useful and hand this to them."

Without so much as a second later those words left his lips, Elsa takes the bottles and glares at him. On a normal basis such words are fit for an upheaval of a response; The Queen of Arendelle doesn't take condescending statements kindly but the situation dictates her compliance. Turning away and heading to the Trasl and his wife, Elsa hands them the bottle and watches painfully as the woman tries her best to give the contents to Trasl. Luckily he has enough strength to get a few gulps in which in turn the woman utters gratitude to some strange name before continuing the strenuous process of making sure he gets his fill of what Elsa assumes is some kind of remedy in the form of liquid.

"Thank you…" the woman tells her as she slowly wraps her arms around her husband. "Thank the Divines for you… whoever you are…"

Elsa nods, smiling as enthusiastically as she can. She knows she can't take all the credit, so she slowly turns her head towards Onyx who is still aiding the little girl in a strange parental way. A man who kills with no remorse, summons beings to further aid him in his quest for blood, and then this. There are plenty of things to be taken in… partially she wonders if this act annoys him or is truly something that is natural to him. With a helmet like that catching a glimpse of how he truly feels through facial expression is impossible. In the mean time, the moment is all that needs to be deciphered. At least he has some kind of heart is all Elsa can tell herself.

* * *

The wagon definitely suffices as a means of transportation for a family of four and this time, it's much friendlier. While far from comforting, at least there are no bars to close them in. Also the destination won't be to a certain cave that would lead to torture and humiliation. For this, Elsa can smile and despite Trasl still unconscious, at least it's comforting to know that he is resting easier than he has been compared to the last few hours. Frost, who is now pulling the wagon, keeps a steady and slow pace, which of course helps with the comfort level.

"He is resting easy," Elsa pulls her cloak over the man, using it as a blanket to cover him. "You should all do the same and rest."

"We will rest when we are inside the walls of Solitude," Ritya states with as much courage as she can while holding her little daughter. "I will stay as alert as I can in case Trasl needs further healing attention."

"Ma, you are not well enough to use magicka. Please rest and let the Dragonborn and Elsa take care of us."

Both Elsa and Ritya give Ennrk their attention as he said those words. The boy is sitting on one end of the wagon looking over towards Onyx as the Dragonborn leads Frost by foot. One can tell that Ennrk has a slight smile to his face despite the depleted condition he is in.

"I never thought it would be him," instead of answering her son's statement, she changes the subject.

"I told you Ma! He is a hero!"

The same confidence in the boy's words is unwavering. Glancing at the little girl who seems to be fast asleep in her mother's arms and back at Ennrk who has all the optimism in the world because of Onyx's "heroism", Elsa is reminded of Anna.

"Please, rest Ennrk."

Of course those words won't put the boy to calmness, as Ritya would prefer. Clearly the idea of Onyx as a hero is far too embellishing for Ritya and Elsa can feel it every time Ennrk praises him. Though Elsa can't truly disagree with Ritya since the only reason he ended up rescuing the family is because of her. If Elsa hadn't decided to meddle in the slavers' affair, what would have been the fate of this family?

"You all have suffered a great deal," Elsa tells them in a comforting tone, "so it would be behoove for all of you to try to get as much rest as you can. I'll be close by to check up on you."

With a reluctant nod of approval from Ritya, Elsa eases herself off the moving wagon, using some of her powers to make sure she lands on her feet. Treading with haste, Elsa walks to Onyx's side, finding herself studying his helmet; the only reference of a 'facial feature' that she has of him.

"The boy is clever," he tells her without so much as giving her attention, "daring, risky, and clever."

His gaze seems to be directed to his left and Elsa discovers why. A group of horses roaming free is what keeps his attention, which strikes a curious chord within Elsa. When he speaks again, she gets the answer to her curiosity.

"On his way to escape, he must've released their horses in hopes of not being caught by them," as Onyx points that out, Elsa is able to recognize the riding gear still adorning each horse, "He must've thought he was going to gain enough distance."

"He would've died if we didn't save him."

"Maybe. Or he would've been sold to slavery after being taught a lesson for insubordination."

"And you would have had no qualms with that?"

Onyx tugs on Frost's reign before looking back towards the family. Elsa herself turns to look and is relieved to see that Ennrk somehow managed to calm himself and sleep. Ritya is out of sight thanks to the wagon's stature, but Elsa can only surmise that she herself is sleeping.

"You seem to have an impeccable skill of wanting to delve into the '_could have's'_ don't you?" Onyx's gaze is now back on the road ahead of them.

"I'm just curious as to how a man with so much power lack any sort of obligation to people who obviously needed his help."

"When you discover who Alduin is, please have the audacity to swallow your words for me, Elsa?"

"Ennrk sees you as a hero, Onyx. Even after telling him blatantly that you aren't one, he still thinks of you highly."

"What about you?" the question throws Elsa off that she almost missed a step. "Do you see me as such?"

It was sarcasm and Elsa heard the chuckle underneath the abhorrent helmet that covers his face. It takes a few seconds for her to come up with an answer since a question such as that doesn't deserve any acknowledgement with that kind of tone. But she gives him one anyway.

"You could have ignored Ennrk, but you didn't. You could have let those men who brought me here just … take me to wherever they intended to—_do_ _whatever they wanted to_, instead you helped me. I can't necessarily call you a hero, but there is something in you that is worth some praise, regardless of how you do things and what vile things you summon to do your bidding."

The man in black robe that Onyx summoned still sends shivers down Elsa's spine with just the mere thought of him.

"Someone amongst your kidnappers shot at me, I retaliated. If it wasn't for him, they probably would have taken you wherever '_somewhere'_ was."

Elsa glares at Onyx as they keep walking. Of course he doesn't give her the respect to even stare at her direction, instead he keeps his gaze forward. There is no reason to this man and there is no reason for her to care about his words. But something about him, the way he is adamant about helping her conflicts with his seemingly apathetic attitude. Looking away and down, Elsa takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I won't thank anyone, dead or alive who has had a hand at kidnapping me. But I will extend my gratitude to you, regardless of your intent."

If Elsa isn't giving him so much attention, she might've missed his reaction to what she said. While he offered no audible response, his posture slightly shifts and he tilts his head to look at her. It only lasted a few seconds before he is back to staring off into the distance where the night sky is starting to lose some of its aesthetics, thanks to the daylight starting to peek through.

"Follow what I say," Onxy finally responds, "do what I tell you to do and _do not_ attempt anymore asinine acts of justice and we'll make it to Solitude before daylight. Do that, and you'll be alright and will be on your way to your Arendelle sooner than later."

With another tug on Frost's reigns, Onyx quickens his pace leaving Elsa with those last words. There are a myriad of things she wants to yell at him in regards to his aspersions, but after a long few seconds of silence, Elsa decides it's best not to perpetuate the conversation. Instead she continues walking, treading slower than before, keeping herself behind him. There are plenty of things on her mind that can keep her company rather than talking to him. Besides, whether she talks to him or analyze the events of the past day, it matters not. Not a lot of things that has happened bring her any sort of comfort. None of them gives her the infallible feeling of being 'alright'.

* * *

_Arendelle_

Time has become an elusive idea for Anna who has spent her time shedding tears since the disappearance of Elsa. She told Elsa not to go… she told Elsa to decline the Southern Isles' summoning of her but Elsa was more than adamant to fulfill her duties as Queen. Now she is missing along with the rest of the crew that accompanied her. Anna immediately knew that something bad happened and the feeling was only confirmed when Olaf melted rather quickly in front of her. The jovial magical snowman could only say 'Elsa' in his last few moments of solid form before he was a puddle of water. With Anna unable to maintain herself, Kai and Gerda immediately took reigns of the kingdom and sent out as many of Arendelle soldiers to search for their missing Queen and the people in that ship; so far, no news. For what seems like forever, the Princess of Arendelle had locked herself in Elsa's room as if she herself was told to conceal herself behind closed doors.

"Anna?"

If his voice wasn't enough, Kristoff's knock on the door invited Anna to at least lift her head from inside her arms.

"Please, I know you're in there. People are wondering how you've been. They say have faith in Elsa, and we're trying to... me and Sven are here for you, tell us what to do..."

Anna's posture is now turned towards the door. For the first time since seeing Olaf's thawing, Anna finally peeled herself away from being so close to the mirror. While Kristoff had always been by her side since the beginning of the ordeal, it's in this moment that she finally 'hears' his voice and 'feels' his presence when he is on the other side of the door.

"I know this is hard for you, but I promise you, we're going to get through this... When Elsa comes back, you two can build that snow man... and Olaf will be alright."

With tears still streaming down her cheeks, Anna's eyes remains fixated on the door. Despite the gloom ambiance of Elsa's room that Anna had confined herself in for however long, the door seems to have this faint glow to it. It's almost acting like a beacon for her to follow.

"She needs more time." Kristoff looks at Sven as he uses his 'Sven' voice that he associated with the reindeer's big eyes that concur with the words.

"Yeah, you're right buddy," As if actually responding to Sven, Kristoff nods his head and pets him in the head. "Let's go."

It doesn't take more than three steps until the door to Elsa's room opens with Anna stepping out with a distraught and sad face. Eyes puffy and face red from the obvious sign of grieving. Slowly, Anna lifts her head from looking down and finally locks eyes with Kristoff and in that moment, seeing his compassionate and 'innocent' expression, Anna breaks down and runs to him and wraps her small arms around his body. Kristoff immediately responds by hugging her back and embraces her with every bit of comfort he could provide.

"We're right here, Anna," Kristoff speaks over her crying that gradually gets louder and stronger. "We're right here. Just let it out…."

Feeling her body in need of rest, Kristoff eases the two of them down on the ground letting Anna lean all of her weight on his body as she cries hysterically. Letting out a soft and concerned sound, Sven sits down behind Kristoff, letting his friend lean on his husky stature for support. Kristoff concurs with the generosity and uses the reindeer's girth to help him give Anna more comfort by leaning both their weights on him. Throughout this whole movement, Anna barely notices the change of position as she continues to sink into her grief.

"Please…. Be… okay…. Elsa…"

The first few words that Anna has been able to form for days.

**To Be Continued.**


	12. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen V

The entire ordeal concluded far better than I had pictured it. The man will heal in time and the family will eventually gain some normality. Elsa hopes so anyways with all the comforting words she is giving them. They may heal, however the trauma of the event will sure leave a mark for years to come and how the four copes with it is something not even I can manage to picture. While eavesdropping on their conversation isn't my main priority, I can't help but catch certain things that elicit a few inaudible responses from me. The boy Ennrk has found a new sense of 'hero' in the Dragonborn while his mother's astonishment keeps hammering the idea that I am not. The hero of Skyrim… isn't that an entertaining thought? Dragon slayer. Mercenary. Listener. Boethiah's champion. Clavicus Vile's champion. Vampire Lord. Ebony Dragon. None of those truly concurs with the idea of a 'hero'. It's because **_I am no hero_**. But here I am transporting victims of slavery to safety across the volatile plains of Skyrim. The strange thing about this image is that it isn't the first time… in fact the last time I escorted innocent lives to safety, there were some things that mirrors this moment… strange thing, actually.

* * *

I remember the route we took wasn't exactly the safest for more than a few reasons. Normally I wouldn't have been bothered by it but we had more than enough children on the wagon that complicated things. Too many young lives were at risk and if some dragon or a group of bandits decided to try their hand at attacking, I would surmise that things would've ended quite differently than it did. Luckily I had my companions.

"It's quite strange, is it not?" I turned towards Kharjo who had his attention towards the wagon as he spoke.

"There are plenty of things that are strange as of late. You'll have to be a bit more specific."

"Come now, Onyx. Kharjo knows that you are grasping the idea of what was just said."

By that time, Kharjo was completely walking backwards and the direction of his gaze was quite obvious. Even if he is a Khajiit, despite the dragonbone helmet that was hiding some of his facial features, it was quite easy for me to see that he was smiling. The show of his canines was enough for me to discern that grinning mug of his.

"The children were all going to be used for purposes that she hates," I turned my head towards the wagon that Arvak was pulling, "there's nothing strange about a woman tending to the needs of those who suffered."

At the time I found that answer logical. The sight of Serana nursing the children who suffered at the hands of those vampires wasn't something out of the norm for me; after all, it was her request that we prevent what the vampires would have done to the children. It wasn't only a request, but it was more of a need to have warriors accompanying her for that mission. I didn't blame her then, and I don't blame her now since the ruins the vampires took for their base was large enough to hold a great number of them. Numbers were at their advantage and Serana needed the help of those who actually had the same intention as her. _She picked Kharjo and I; dare I say that she chose her allies well_.

"Do you not find it strange that a woman who feeds on humans would have the caring intent of a mother when it comes to children of her livestock?"

"Should I care about it?"

"Oh come now, Onyx," then Kharjo's tone started mixing between half sarcasm and half seriousness, "you have been spending enough time with the Princess of Volkihar. Surely you care about her opinions just as much as you enjoy licking her between the legs and groping her breasts."

I give Kharjo a half amused look before shaking my head, "she can hear you."

"I sure can!"

Serana calls from the wagon, which summons a chuckle from both Kharjo and I.

"My apologies Princess," and that was Kharjo's sarcasm heading the wrong direction. "Your delightful assets will no longer be part of the conversation when it comes to Onyx and Kharjo."

If it weren't for the children, I'm sure Serana would have thrown a spell or two at the Khajiit's direction that would have followed suit after her hiss. The title was something she hates vehemently and for all the times the three of us fought together, Kharjo had very little inhibition on calling her that. In fact I think he enjoyed throwing off Serana's mood. Kharjo was odd like that.

"Feisty she is."

"She's also a vampire that can probably render you immobile."

"Indeed," then Kharjo's tone seemed to have settled away from humor as he spoke next. "Though unlike Karliah or any other woman you shared a bed with in the past, she seems to be the one that does you the most good. She's more than … _you know_."

I smiled slightly at Kharjo's words as I thought about the things he was saying. Though I was given very little time to soak them in as Kharjo immediately tangents off.

"That priestess that seems to be following you," I tensed up as Kharjo finally decided to delve into a subject that I had long eluded him with.

"The one who abides by Dibella?" and at that point, there was no longer any need to try and flee from the subject. Though I did wish that he chose a better time to inquire about it.

"I suppose that's her. Have you ever found out what she wanted?"

"Her name is Senna," after I learned Senna's name, it was hard to forget it, "and she claims that Dibella wanted her to help me with my destiny."

Aside from our footsteps and the normal sounds that echoed across Skyrim, a moment of silence draped over us after I answered Kharjo's question. There was a lot to think about and I didn't even know if Kharjo grasped the idea of what Senna told me; I'm not even sure if Kharjo understands what Senna wants to this day since I'm not even sure I do either.

"Onyx has far more important things to think about than some Priestess trying to bed with him."

Serana breaking our silence by nonchalantly sneaking up beside me was also part of the norm. A vampire of her caliber has the ability for stealth that even surpasses my own if she wanted to. With that, I broke myself from my reverie and started to take the walk with more awareness. Serana finding her way beside me was one thing but a rogue assassin getting that close was not something I wanted. The hand that rested on Muramasa shifted and I remember my grip on the hilt tightened.

"Oh? Onyx has far better things to think about these days than who will be at his bedside?" of course Kharjo never fell short of humor.

"Indeed he does," Serana countered with a stern tone of voice, "like how about he should pay more concern with the zealots who are attacking him randomly? The ones who claim to serve the _First Dragonborn_."

"The First Dragonborn?"

"The first, the second to the last, the third, it bothers me not," I answered with that confidence that I didn't know was going to be my downfall when it came to the subject of Miraak. "Let them come and let their champion come. Better yet, I think I'll eventually pay Solstheim a visit to save them all the trouble."

"Well before you do that, can we at least bring these children to Riften?"

At that time, Riften wasn't used to seeing Serana but the more she and I travelled together, the more she became a usual in the orphanage that I helped upkeep. The more she became a usual, the more the children adored her, and she reciprocated the affection quite blatantly. Perhaps it was the idea of travelling with me that got her so attached to Riften, or maybe because right from the beginning there was something about children that meant something to Serana. Whatever was the answer, it's too late now to find out. I don't travel with Serana anymore and Kharjo and I barely see each other.

This would be the first time I have delved into this kind of situation in a _long_ time. As a matter of fact, Elsa has been my first travelling companion for some time.

* * *

"You all have suffered a great deal," Elsa's comforting voice pierces my ears, "so it would be behoove for all of you to try to get as much rest as you can. I'll be close by to check up on you."

Frost lets out a sound at the presence of horses not too far away from us. It isn't hard to see that the slavers were their former riders; obvious by the riding gear still adorning them and they seem to be wandering not too far away from where Orotheim is. I can count three but I would put my bet at the fact that there are a couple others lost elsewhere and most likely to be picked up by a scavenger in need of a horse or eaten by the closest predator. While keeping my gaze on them, I take note of Elsa as she jumped off the wagon and is now walking beside me. Thank Boethiah she decided to put some good use to her fancy cloak by keeping the badly beaten Redguard warm. It sure did us no good at the cave with how much attention it drew our way; or at least could've had drawn our way. Thank Boethiah again, I suppose.

"The boy is clever; daring, risky, and clever," my words causes Elsa to set her gaze towards the stray horses. "On his way to escape, he must've released their horses in hopes of not being caught by them. He must've thought he was going to gain enough distance."

It was a losing situation for Ennrk to begin with. If he didn't spend the time to release the horses, his pursuers would have caught up to him easily but by him doing so, he wasted too much time fumbling with the knots, which also gave his captors enough time to inevitably corner him. Though doing something in hopes of saving his family is better than doing nothing at all.

"He would've died if we didn't save him."

I blinked a few times before slightly turning my head so that I can look at her. Staring right at me with those piercing blue eyes, I could award Elsa for having the courage to speak to me the way she does, even though I know it's mostly out of obliviousness.

"Maybe. Or he would've been sold to slavery after being taught a lesson for insubordination," and that's how the vicious circle of marauders and bandits keep perpetuating. I'll take solace that Ennrk is spared at the moment.

"And you would have had no qualms with that?"

The question itself is digging into a subject that shouldn't be pried upon, but here she is, a stranger of this world asking me about my opinions on the 'could-haves'. With my grip on Frost's reigns affirmed, I glance at the wagon. Ennrk and his family are now resting peacefully. The mother, tried as she did couldn't fight of the fatigue of what she had endured and she joined her family not too long after the conversation with Elsa. Wish I could join them instead of having this pointless banter with this woman.

"You seem to have an impeccable skill of wanting to delve into the '_could have's'_ don't you?"

"I'm just curious as to how a man with so much power lack any sort of obligation to people who obviously needed his help."

There is a part of me that wanted to laugh out loud at such a ridiculous statement, instead I keep my immediate response at bay and keep my gaze looking forward. Though her ignorance seems to be stepping into boundaries that I can't simply ignore.

"When you discover who Alduin is, please have the audacity to swallow your words for me, Elsa?"

The weight of that statement probably didn't hit as hard as I would want it to She looks utterly confused. That or she has other things far more prominent things on her mind in regards to our conversation.

"Ennrk sees you as a hero, Onyx. Even after telling him blatantly that you aren't one, he still thinks of you highly."

The prophecy of the _Last Dragonborn_ has left fairy tales far greater than the trials I had physically gone through. Tales of the Ebony Dragon entering Soverngarde summoned far cries of glory for some while others thought of it as blasphemy that someone not of Nord heritage would even have the privilege of entering a sacred place. For the children and some people, the _Last Dragonborn_ is still a legend, for the rest, I am as much of a menace as the dragons I slay. Some even tell their children that I am not the true Dragonborn for the sake of not tainting the other Dragonborns before me. This boy Ennrk didn't believe what his parents told him for reasons I cannot fathom as to why.

"What about you? Do you see me as such?" I can tell my question threw Elsa off, obvious by the change of step and her bewildered expression.

"You could have ignored Ennrk, but you didn't," Elsa finally answers after a few seconds. "You could have let those men who brought me here just … take me to wherever they intended to—_do_ _whatever they wanted to_, instead you helped me. I can't necessarily call you a hero, but there is something in you that is worth some praise, regardless of how you do things and what vile things you summon to do your bidding."

"Someone amongst your kidnappers shot at me, I retaliated. If it wasn't for him, they probably would have taken you wherever '_somewhere'_ was."

Part of me believes that's true. I reacted to the situation and if it wasn't for the initial attack, I probably would have let it be. Elsa would have been taken to wherever her captors desired to take her and I probably would have gone through the days not thinking about the apparition I saw of her destroying the '_symbol of Skyrim_'… but part of me is also trying to fool myself. Whatever the reason Elsa is taken to Skyrim will play a bigger role in the days to come. Whether it would have been my choice or not, I would have been involved—when a woman appears claiming no knowledge of anything about Tamriel, partner that in with the talks of sigil stones and oblivion gates opening, one cannot deny the possible relation of the two events. And there's the fact that a Daedra himself mentioned that Elsa has gone through an Oblivion gate. Regardless of the alternative choices I could have made, the result would still have ended with me tangled with Elsa's fate in Skyrim.

"I won't thank anyone, dead or alive who has had a hand at kidnapping me. But I will extend my gratitude to you, regardless of your intent."

The words she spoke carry the weight of the gratitude that I truly don't want. Gratitude and praise comes with a heavy burden of … _other_ things. Regardless, I can't help but gaze at Elsa's eyes as they define the sentiment with every bit of sincerity a person can give. It's strange how much she abhors my methods and yet finds it in her to express such gesture with a genuine emotion. She truly doesn't know who I am, does she?

"Follow what I say, do what I tell you to do and _do not_ attempt anymore asinine acts of justice and we'll make it to Solitude before daylight," as I tell her those words, I stare at the sky, noting the twin moons' position and the distant light somewhat piercing through the jet black sky. I do hate the sun. "Do that, and you'll be alright and will be on your way to your Arendelle sooner than later."

I pull on Frost's reigns and hasten our steps. Whatever Elsa's response would've been is now lost with the distance between she and I, though as I look back, her mind seems to be going through a myriad of things. One can't really blame her and my words probably gave her no sense of ease. A woman lost in a world that would devour one whole if she abides by fairy tale like sense of thinking—she needs to get back to her Arendelle. If not for the sake of preventing whatever bad omen she brings upon me, then it's for her own sanity. I suppose I do feel bad; and I suppose part of me would've saved her with or without being instigated. I have the knack of finding random damsels in distress it would seem.

* * *

As soon as the guards opened the gates, one of them quickly summoned help to tend to the family. They were diligent, careful, and urgent about the situation. Elsa kept reminding them of Trasl's injuries and I'm sure Ritya was thankful for her constant bombarding of the guards. Of course Nords aren't very keen to have a woman of Elsa's height telling them what to do. It was a strange and almost comical sight to see a woman at their chest level demanding every bit of consideration out of them as they aided the unconscious man out of the wagon. Perhaps it was my presence that deterred them from speaking their mind, or maybe because Elsa does have that command that fumes with royalty. Regardless, I said no words and pretended I gave it no thought.

"Thank you, Dragonborn! Thank you, Lady Elsa!" Ennrk's gratitude can deceive someone about the things he had gone through. So much energy.

"You are welcome, Ennrk," Elsa smiles, crouching down so that she would be able to reciprocate by hugging the young boy. She stands up after what seems like an hour of embrace and turns to Ritya who is still clutching her daughter. "You will be alright?"

"We will manage," the Redguard woman responds in a humble manner. "I cannot thank you enough."

"Thank Onyx," Elsa turns her head towards me. "If he wasn't there, heaven knows what I couldn't have accomplished."

Ritya reluctantly gives me her gratitude by bowing her head before reaching her hand towards Ennrk who is now close to me, smiling as he stares into the hollow eyes of my helmet. Barely acknowledging his mother's half given appreciation, I crouch down so that I would somewhat be head level with Ennrk.

"Learn to fight," in my hands I offer a sheathed dagger, one that had just been recently used. "This small ebony blade could be the stepping stone. There are teachers of the art all over Solitude. Direct the expense of your lessons to Proudspire Manor. My Housecarl will handle the rest."

The boy holds the dagger with both hands in awe. His mouth agape and his eyes wide unable to truly comprehend the moment as he holds the weapon that was once mine. Admittedly, the dagger is one of the _many_ weapons I have made on my spare time. Anyone who knows of my craft will be able to recognize it. While I am far from perfect, there is something about the way I etched the handle in an intricate way that would surely be known by all. The blade itself is also aesthetic but practical, obvious by the results earlier. Not my best weapon, but for a boy like Ennrk, it will serve him well.

"Come, Ennrk."

His mother obviously wasn't enthused with the idea of her eldest child holding a blade but I believe she has far more pressing manners to attend to. Barely able to comprehend his mother's call, Ennrk bows his head in the humblest and respectful manner towards me before walking with his mother as they follow the guards who will lead them to where Trasl is being nursed.

"That blade," Elsa is reluctant to finish her sentence, "it's the same—"

"It has slain many. But if you have to know, yes. It's the same dagger I used to kill those two men around the campfire."

"And you gave it to a young boy who just lived through such a horrific event?" I can't say I didn't expect that question.

"You'll have to give me a tour of Arendelle's worse areas," I tell her sarcastically. "I'm very interested at how your low lives behave."

I see her glaring at me from my peripheral vision. Again those eyes… those icy blue orbs of hers that defies her warm and too naïve of a personality. The glare lasts a few seconds too long before she sets her eyes back towards the family as they are escorted by a couple of guards to their temporary haven until they recover. The ironic thing is that the late Vittoria Vici's house became a dedicated place for the sick, injured, and victims that find themselves strolling in Solitude. One can say that because of the untimely death of the bride, Elisif took it upon herself to donate Vittoria's property for the good of restoration and other arts that could help tend to those in need of healing service. Again, I find the _ironies_ quite comical in a way since Vittoria's former house is quite literally next to my property: Proudspire Manor, which is my next destination until the right hour hits. Without so much as a warning, I walk towards my Manor with Elsa following behind me. I make another effort to study her expressions as her gaze jumped from left to right, studying her new environment; it's truly getting to the point where it's hard for me _not_ to believe she is from another plane of existence altogether with how much this place is jarring her. While Solitude is but a shadow of activity in full daylight, the presence of the ones that are awake seems to cause enough astonishment that part of her powers are pouring out. I sigh, slowing my pace so that I would be right next to her.

"I take no joy to talking to the guards," I tell her bluntly as one of the guards seems to be staring at our direction. "Calm yourself."

"I've already told you, my powers are harder to control in this place."

Elsa passes by a female Argonian who gives her the same inquisitive look that she gives the Argonian. Lately, the reptiles are more common all over Skyrim and their presence isn't as much of a surprise. Though they still don't take highly to someone gawking at them as if their existence is something that just sprouted out from the ground.

"For one I urge you to stop staring," the moment I said that, Elsa abruptly looks away from the Argonian, "and two, try _not_ to freeze the ground that you are walking on."

"You act as if I'm not trying."

"I never insinuated that you weren't. I'm merely telling you to try harder."

Elsa's eyes glows with a fearsome shade of blue and the surrounding small area got noticeably colder. My words seemed to have an opposite affect with her rigid posture and her glaring eyes being a testament of it; that and the fact that ground she is standing on formed a small frozen pattern, like some kind of snowflake of the sort. Shaking my head at her, I decide that trading words isn't what's going to help the situation so I continue walking. Reluctantly, she follows. As we finally leave the market area, the walk to Proudspire Manor won't take long since it is literally one of the first few houses on the resident section of Solitude. All the better to get inside since judging from the light that is starting to shine on Blue Palace the sun will be upon us sooner than later.

"You will need to stay here while I find out some details about your ship," I finally tell her as we reach the door. "Jordis will tend to your needs but do not expect her to be as talented in the chore as Senna."

"Excuse me?" I stop from opening the door to entertain her agitation. "I will not bother to elaborate on the use of the word 'chore' since that is ridiculous. However I do want you to explain your plan on _leaving me here_ while you attend to the issue of my ship."

I take a few more seconds to indulge on her tone she used. I have to admit, her sass is delightful.

"We were side tracked thus we lost some hours. I need the night to aid me to getting on your ship unseen."

"I thought the plan was speak to the person who has the authority to allow us permission to see my confiscated ship?"

"As Senna pointed out, the High Queen and I don't have the most amenable rapport," the memory of her last request about Sigil Stones comes across my mind, "thus why I have to do this without her consent or knowledge."

"I wonder why a Queen would not think highly of you," and then there's that snide comment that makes me turn my head at her direction. "Listen, if you do not have the capacity to speak to her and gain her approval then let me."

I raise an eyebrow at Elsa before responding, "you really think that just because your are the Queen of this Arendelle that she would react accordingly?"

"Your means of acquiring access will probably lead to more bloodshed—A route that is not needed for my sake," for her sake she says. "I'd rather try to go the peaceful route, if I can help it."

Peaceful she says. Whoever wants Elsa will probably raise more chaos far more than she will ever know, thus why getting her to Arendelle is my priority. Though a bit of teaching a lesson to a naïve monarch of some unknown land isn't such a bad idea either. With a small grin, I push the door open and decided in my mind that we shall adhere to her plan. With my hand on the door to allow her to enter, Proudspire Manor greets the two of us and not a second later my housecarl comes as well.

"Honored to see you, my Thane."

It's strange seeing Jordis the Sword Maiden wear a green robe meant for a noble and not her usual armor. Though the sword sheathed on her belt is precaution as she keeps her left hand resting on it just in case. Gone is the fire in her eyes of me possibly asking her to join me; she simply nods with a stoic but pleasant enough expression. She learned after some time that her company or even her sword is not necessary. Stopping in front of us from sitting down in her usual place in the second dining area, Jordis gives Elsa a strange glance before turning back to me.

"You have received several messages," she points to bench in the corner that is obviously flooding with notes from couriers and such.

"What else is a new?" I ask rhetorically. "Anything from Riften?"

Jordis takes a moment before answering, "if I remember correctly, only two, my Thane."

"Very well."

I have an itch to rummage through the stack of letters just to get to those two; I can only imagine what Iona has to say in regards to that place. It's been some time and perhaps it's time to visit Honorhall once more. Though I do have other pressing issues to attend to at the moment.

"This is Elsa," I gesture towards the Snow Queen as I speak to Jordis, "make her comfortable. Fetch the cook and after you are done with that, send word to the Blue Palace that I would like an audience with the High Queen."

Without so much of a hesitation, Jordis makes her way to make Elsa feel at home by offering to take off her cloak. Jordis is considerably young to my service and despite the disdain Elisif has for me, the Sword Maiden remains as loyal to me as one can't imagine. Part of me believes she is sent to spy on me, though I'm hardly in Solitude for her to gain some kind of useful information and like I said, I don't bring her with me on my endeavors. Regardless, she is quick to respond and lacks the opinion that my last Housecarl had about my actions and nature. Though I would say that Lydia still over shadows Jordis in more ways than one; after all, Lydia was useful for me to gain Boethiah's blessing. However Jordis is a mixture of maid and warrior unlike the late Lydia, which makes her considerably more manageable. Though Elsa would have none of Jordis' willing hands and in her own polite way, Elsa gestures the Sword Maiden to stop.

"Thank you, Jordis, but there is no need for that," her eyes glare at me after addressing my Housecarl. "Onyx and I had no plans on staying long."

"We will stay for as long as it is necessary. In the mean time, do make yourself comfortable. Rest, replenish, and wait. The High Queen will see us sooner than you think."

There were words wanting to come out of Elsa's mouth but with Jordis stepping in to offer her assistance on taking out Elsa's cloak, the conversation pretty much ended there. By now I have turned my attention to the stacks of messages and quickly scan for the ones that aren't from Jarls or other nonsensical requests from some helpless citizen of this reach or that reach. I quickly found the two letters that have the seal of the twin blades of Riften and with that I drop the other letters and make my way to the third room where my private quarters is. With diligence, I open the letter and prepare myself for what the words may bring:

_My Thane, _

_Honorhall has been well; let me just say that first and foremost. The children are healthy, active, and as you have requested last time we spoke, the others and I are taking great lengths to ensure that their lessons in combat are more constant and productive. Brynjolf has been stepping in for Karliah's absence. If you have to know, she is still rather upset at you—and the recent revelation with J'udas being part of the Brotherhood has caused more reasons for Karliah to hate you. I am not exactly sure how it all works but Brynjolf has told me that Karliah is going as far as trying to find ways to banish J'udas from the Nightengale; again, I'm not exactly sure on the details, but it's best if you talk to Brynjolf yourself. _

_On a more positive note, Anjri has been excelling in her lessons. You should really come see her ability to conjure a sword and her techniques that goes along with it. They really are quite impressive. Of course she is as you have requested still being educated in the finer things of life. You should hear her sing. _

_The children and I hope to see you soon, My Thane. Please send our regards to Lady Senna and Kharjo. _

_-Iona_

I sit motionless on the bed for a few moments, staring at the letter as if trying to read something between the lines. I eventually put it down and find myself staring at the weapons rack by the wall as all three swords glow with the well-known elements of magicka. I'm not exactly sure what I should think or feel at the moment but that pressing emotion of _yearning_ is a bit more prominent. The yearning to see them again perhaps? Or to see Anjri and all the serenity that entails with her. My hand eventually finds itself to the next note and I start reading:

_Hello Jin,_

_Iona told me that she sent you something. You haven't written back she said. Senna has been writing to me at least. She told me you are doing alright. Is something the matter? Please come visit soon. I miss you a lot! I know you're probably doing what you do and saving people but still, wish you can come visit! I have a surprise for you! Oh and have you seen Kharjo and Serana? They haven't been around either. I miss them too! Please tell them I said hello! And bring Senna with you too when you come visit! _

_See you soon,_

_Anjri_

Time has been kind to her, obvious by the growth in her penmanship. The years have gone by so quick and now I can truly feel the weight of my absence in her life. For minutes I remain as I am, staring blankly at her letter—studying the ways she wrote each word, each letter… imagining how long her golden hair is now… wondering just how her voice sounds like with the growth she has gone through. I've seen her far less the last couple of years and with that, I have indeed missed too much. Her mother would have been so proud of her, I imagine. I fold the paper and place it on the bed, which brings me to stare at my weapons mounted on the wall once more. With a sigh I slowly slide my helmet off and place it on the bed as well, letting the cold air graze my exposed face. It has been _too long_.

I will quickly conclude my business with Elsa and Riften will be my next destination after I fetch Senna. I've been too preoccupied with other things that I need not be involved with. It's time for a change.

_I need to see Anjiri_ for the sake of my sanity.

**To Be Continued.**


	13. Elsa: The Face of Evil

_'The first time my sword struck it didn't do the job; at least not in the sense, I hoped it would. But hearing her cry out in pain brought a smile on my face like no other. The feeling of having struck flesh and bone was also euphoric, so much joy that I can't even convey it with words. But I couldn't stand there rejoicing when the job wasn't done—the Snow Queen's head still remained on her shoulders; barely. Making sure that my grip was firm, I pulled the blade out, letting blood trickle down from the fatal wound I had inflicted on her neck. Not a moment after, she fell face first—dying. But that didn't do. I brought my blade high and struck again. This time, the frozen fjord that we stood on became my ally and my blade made the cut. The sound of blood splattering, bone shattering, and of course the cry of another woman from behind me resonated. The concerto of those sounds made it feel like I was being serenaded for the victory I had just gained. I stood there for a few minutes eyeing my prize—my triumph. Finally, I grabbed her head by her braided hair and with blood dripping profusely I lifted the Snow Queen's head high so that all may see. The expression of agony still etched on her face as I flaunt it to the citizens of Arendelle. I laughed. I laughed, even more, when I saw the Snow Queen's sister completely frozen thanks to the curse that was placed on her. _

_While still holding on to my prize, I shattered Anna's frozen form and watched elatedly as her pieces bounced and scattered on the ground. Some pieces still resemble her humanity, while others are small—like diamonds. The sisters of Arendelle are no more, one in pieces, and one whose head is now within my grasp. I had gained my rightful place._

_I had won."_

Hans' last words hovers within the darkness of his mind; with the images that concurred with his words vanishing, he can feel the energy leave his body and whatever magic was cast on him is now retreating causing the blissful feeling of victory to slip away; like a magnificent dream vanishing when one wakes up. As Hans opens his eyes, the death of the Arendelle sisters is no longer in his grasp and the frozen fjord incident was just a moment in his past. The archaic and somewhat decrepit stone room along with the people whom he has to call his allies once again surrounds him. His eyes quickly lock on Ahna who stands with three hooded figures who aided him to get to the state of meditation and with the man known as Miraak. While he doesn't trust Ahna one bit for many reasons, she seems to be the only person in the group that has had a hand to contributing to his safety, so there is some comfort to her sight. How much she is willing to aid him, however, has yet to be seen.

"What an interesting fairy tale," Miraak is the first who breaks the silence as Hans recuperates, "I was highly anticipating a song coming from such a glorious fantasy."

Hans has the urge to say something, but he abstains. Miraak stands about a foot and a half taller than Hans with apparel that consists of a menacingly designed armor that covers his arms, shoulders, legs, and chest; the olive green robe adds a contrast to the image that the said armor is trying to convey, though it still completes the unnerving presence. But to Hans, it's not necessarily the look or the amalgam of reptile and human face that intimidates him. It's not even the fact that Miraak has the posture that seethes of lethal intent if he is provoked. No, it's not those at all that deters Hans from being his usual witty self, though those certainly play a factor. The thing is, Miraak is unknown in almost every way to Hans, and while Tamriel is a complete mystery to the Prince with all their strange races, history, powers, and politics, the presence of Miraak lets off something far more convoluted than the rest of the things Hans is ignorant about. So when Miraak says condescending statements like his previous one, Hans has nothing to say in response to—or they just wouldn't come out at all.

"It's a shame that things didn't go your way," Miraak signals with his head to follow, so Hans complies with Ahna shadowing not too long after. "Deception? Gloating? Without real power, you were meant to fail."

Hans clenches his fists so tight that the leather of his gloves starts to rub against each other. His footsteps as they climb the stone stairs echoes with anger and they are barely overshadowed with Miraak's and Ahna's armored boots hitting the ground.

"There is also the matter of you attempting to dispose of the Snow Queen. Squandering her purpose by merely killing her? What a shame, though it is rather expected from someone like you."

"Squandering?" Hans can hold his actions, but the anger in his voice he can't. "At that time, Elsa was a threat and her death was the key to ruling Arendelle."

The flames on the stone fire pit grew as they passed it, almost as if reacting to Miraak's laughter in response to Hans' words. The insulting laughter ended and followed by the familiar sound of Miraak's tongue slithering about.

"But you see, Prince, her death would have only served as a temporary measurement. Sometime down the road, there most likely would have been an uproar, one that you would not have been adequate to contain."

"You do not know that or me!"

"I know that you have failed," Miraak answers; pausing momentarily as they reach the door that undoubtedly leads outside, obvious by the coldness emanating from it. "I know that you had a plan, but you see, Elsa's role is far bigger than your petty dreams."

"As you have pointed out, I do not have your means," Hans responds with far more anger than he would like, "I do not have your powers or the people at your disposal! I was working off my own motivation and I had—"

"You were limited, that is obvious. So now I tell you, Prince, have a bigger goal. Look past the failures of your past and comprehend the present that The Lord is giving you."

The moment Miraak pushes the doors open they are greeted by the blistering cold outdoors. To Miraak and Ahna, the cold seems to be something they are used to but to Hans, to someone who hates the cold for reasons that are obvious, being greeted by it isn't comforting by any means, especially after being mocked.

"Are you willing to cast those thoughts aside and finally hold true power in your hands, Prince Hans?"

Hans glowers at Miraak's direction who doesn't even give him the dignity of making eye contact after the question. It wasn't so much the question but the mocking tone Miraak used as well.

"I am," Hans answers tersely.

"You should hope you are, because if you are not ready there is no use for you."

As if Hans didn't have enough to worry about, Miraak continues to add to the weight of what he must contend with in the world known as Nirn. Without further words traded, Miraak leads Hans outside where the courtyard covered snow awaits. Trees that aren't that much taller than Hans are sparsely decorating the wide white space along with some oddly placed stone pillars that are obviously ancient. Some of the man-made structures are incomplete, standing alone as if they were meant to support or stand with a purpose rather than 'decorate' the mundane colored surroundings. Hans takes note of the gate on the left that seems to serve no purpose other than be there. It's hardly baffling that it would be the place where one would enter; after all, Hans and Ahna used the aid of dragon wings to arrive.

"This way," while Ahna's voice isn't exactly soothing with how melancholy she sounds, to Hans, it is better than hearing Miraak talk again. "We cannot lose any more time."

Redirecting him to the sight of a large tower next to another set of stone stairs, Hans takes a few more moments to indulge the sight before following. The one thing that Hans can take relief since arriving is that at least his injuries seems to have been healed, thanks to the magic that was applied to him by the mages of this place. Though he could do well without the cold winds, ones that grow immensely stronger as they ascend up the steps that are leading to another stone structure, one that is grand in design, big, and seems to act as another odd entrance of some sort. Where it leads to is another daunting view since Hans can only see a path being bombarded with another storm. To him, nothing can be seen pass the howling wind that seems to stop where the stone structure stands.

"I believe he is finally done," Miraak states as they reach the top of the stairs. "I can hardly wait what words was given to him."

"I'm sure the Lord gave him sufficient instructions."

"I can only hope, Ahna. I grow weary of standing still."

Hans looks at Miraak then at Ahna with confusion as they stare at the storm behind the 'entrance'. It takes a few minutes until Hans realizes that within the storm, a figure is walking towards them, unbothered by the unforgiving winds. Soon the figure emerges and reveals itself to be a man clad in a gray robe, standing ominously as he grasps a strange staff in his hand. He acknowledges Miraak and Ahna before fixing his gaze on Hans. He points at Hans' direction not too long after, which sends a cold chill up the Prince's spine.

"The amulet," Miraak extends his hand, waiting for Hans to comply, "he wishes to see it."

The moment the amulet lands on Miraak's hand, the ground shook causing Hans to stumble. What caused the tremor still baffles Hans since it felt like it came from the new comer. Regaining his stability, Hans watches as Miraak hands the amulet to the man in gray who hides his face behind a strange masque with tusks protruding from the cheeks. The gray hood that is attached to the robe covers the rest of his head; basically, with his entire face and body hidden, another enigmatic figure joins the fray and leaves Hans with more than enough questions about who or what this man is. But the curiosity is cut short as the ground trembles again, this time, it shakes with stronger conviction causing Hans to fall on his behind. He might have gained more balance by being on the ground but a new assault causes him to shriek in pain; the ground shaking somehow becomes an ear piercing sound that is bombarding Hans with undeniable agony, like his ears are about to explode from the very sound of it. He screams and he clutches his ears, trying to gain some sort of comfort from the assault. For what seem like an eternity, the ordeal finally ends with Hans lying down in a fetal position, in pain, and completely disoriented. It takes a few seconds to register that Miraak is standing over him and undoubtedly telling him something. Of course, Hans' hearing isn't quite working adequately due to the strange occurrence.

"… Rise…"

Obscure as Miraak's words are, Hans is at least able to grasp the one important word that he is meant to understand. After that, Hans is left to struggle to his feet while the man in gray and Miraak makes their way down the steps. Still in agony and with a headache beyond description, Hans catches the sight of Ahna stumbling to rise from a similar position as he. Obviously whatever just happened also affected the woman, which of course is a rather disheartening sight. To see a woman garbed in probably the most intimidating armor Hans has ever seen, partner that in with the fact that she is capable of things that have driven what Hans would imagine countless of people to their graves, the image of her staggering to walk down the stairs doesn't exactly soothe his already distraught self. Still, it would be prudent of him to also brush aside the pain and follow. So while fighting off the disorientation, Hans takes his first slow steps downwards.

* * *

Jordis, the woman serving Onyx, mentioned that this place is called 'Blue Palace', though it's not entirely as blue as Elsa pictured it in her head; there is only one particular palace that she knows is blue and this place isn't it. The interiors itself holds very little to no decors that pay homage to its color name, even though Elsa can appreciate the way the castle is decorated with all the plants, the numerous seating arrangements for guests, even the double stairways that led to this room is something she can admire. But she can find nothing within the ornaments that signifies the reason for the name; even the banners that are hanging above are red and the crest is a wolf head within a shield. Of course now isn't exactly the time to scrutinize the decorating styles of this kingdom and their relation to its name since there are so many things that she should be focusing on. Her head should be concentrating on the situation, the possible tense conversation, Onyx's less than friendly attitude, and of course she can't possibly be oblivious that whoever Hans was working with could still be out there and waiting for the perfect opportunity to attack again. It's more than obvious that Elsa shouldn't have a single care about interiors.

With everything in her mind, it's hard for Elsa to maintain her usual demeanor that would be adequate for such an occasion. Whether it's her nervousness or the fact that she is using every bit of focus she has to control her power, Elsa can't seem to stop feeling intimidated being surrounded by guards and a few unfamiliar faces that don't have the most jovial of expressions. From what she has gathered, none of them take too kindly to the presence of the man she is with and from what she has experienced being around Onyx, it's not that surprising. The tension is evident through the body language of the guards as she and Onyx first walked in, and even now as they stand waiting, their burning glares are evident. The man fully clothed in silver armor in front of them bears no sense of comfort either—in fact, he makes Elsa the most uncomfortable out of all. With his hand resting on the hilt of his sword and his eyes narrowing, Elsa can't help but feel the need to simply just walk away and perhaps adhere to Onyx's more clandestine path. Perhaps the intimidation is another reason why Elsa seems to be observing the decorations far more than she should.

"I thought the planes of Vaermina opened in my mind," a woman, the one whom Elsa can only assume as High Queen Elisif, walks towards the throne at a slow pace as she speaks, "to hear that my first audience on this fine day is none other than the Dragonborn was quite the news. I can either say this is but a dream or an undeniably tangible nightmare."

Just from the words alone, Elsa can feel the not so cordial rapport that Senna spoke about and she can't help but glance towards Onyx's direction who seems to keep himself stark still like a statue. One can only wonder what he is thinking, but again, he keeps his emotions hidden with his demeanor and inside that helmet of his. Regardless, as soon as Elisif makes her way to sit on her throne, Elsa repositions herself so that she may once again project herself as humble and respectable. A man walks close to Elisif's side and whispers something to her ears; strange for Elsa to notice that the color of the man's beard almost resembles the dark orange attire he is wearing.

"Please, Dragonborn," Elisif speaks again, "let's not let the silence speak for us."

"I was merely waiting for you to get comfortable, High Queen," Onyx responds with the same dull voice except when referring to the woman's title; that part he used with the same condescending tone when he calls Elsa 'Snow Queen'.

"How considerate of you, but please, do go on. I am highly interested to hear what this is all about."

It was after those words that Elisif finds herself stealing a glance at Elsa. The look in the woman's eyes has a bit of astonishment and curiosity in them and it's safe for Elsa to assume that it's most likely due to the fact that Elsa looks foreign in every way possible. Just Elsa's clothing alone, simple and yet elegant compared to everyone else's. Elisif's clothing does hold its own royalty to it, but Elisif's is more pronounce, more demanding, and to Elsa, Elisif's royal attire has more masculinity in them especially with the chainmail shoulders, the dark combination of rust and crimson color, and the fact that her clothing doesn't exactly fit into her skin like Elsa's. If she is to assume, The High Queen must be wearing some kind of armory underneath the robe with how bulky her clothing looks on her, which in an environment like this one, it would make sense. Though despite all of that, Elsa notices the beauty of this woman. Even with an exasperated look, Elisif comes off as young and innocent. If it wasn't for the tiara nestled on her head, Elisif's hair would probably frame her round face, highlighting the feminine beauty that is undermined by everything else she is wearing.

"There's a ship under your care," Onyx's voice retracts Elisif's attention to him, "I need to take a gander inside."

There were a few murmurs amongst the guards that quickly ended when Elisif clears her throat. The man standing by the Queen whispers something yet again to her before he himself speaks.

"We had assumed that the trail of corpses was your doing," the sound of his voice and the aggressive words adds more evidence to Elsa that Onyx isn't very liked.

"You are welcome," Onyx's response causes Elsa's eyes to widen.

"Welcome?" of course it wasn't just Elsa that felt rather off from such a response from Onyx; Elisif herself has the same reaction.

"I'll save you the trouble of giving me another half gratitude, half bribe statement, High Queen. You are welcome, and I will try my best to rid Skyrim of some of the most hospitable residents that your guards allow to roam freely."

The man in armor growls, the man standing by Elisif clenches his fists, and Elisif merely stiffens her posture, while the rest of her guards all respond with more murmurs. Elsa herself can't help but shake her head and has every urge to palm her face. Senna's statement about Onyx's rapport with the High Queen is but a nice way of putting it.

"But at least you had something to do, right Falk? Cleaning up after me was at least a good delegation practice for you, am I correct?"

Falk, the red-haired man, narrows his eyes and Elsa can tell that he is fighting every urge to not say something. All the while, Elsa can feel the tension rising and Elisif's words of trying to calm everyone down seems to work, but only out of respect for her and nothing else. Taking a deep breath, Elsa decides that this is her forte and not Onyx's.

"Your Majesty, I humbly apologize for the Dragonborn's offensive words," speaking over Elisif, the guards, and Onyx himself now sets their eyes on Elsa. "As aggressive as he may sound, he isn't entirely at fault. Those men he left behind were dangerous mercenaries who had unknown plans after murdering my guards and apprehending my ship."

"Young lady," with the room still focused on Elsa, Elisif speaks, "who might you be, and where do you come do you come from?"

"I am Queen Elsa of Arendelle," after she said those words, Onyx drops his shoulders and lets out an agitated sigh; Elsa ignores his reaction to the best of her ability. "That ship is mine and I would like to ask permission to enter it."

"Queen Elsa of Arendelle?"

Elisif's words represent everyone's reaction to Elsa as she states her name. Catching a glance at Onyx who is staring at her as well, Elsa can only imagine what sarcasm might come out of his mouth.

"Oh look, you've given them something in common with me: confusion," she doesn't have to imagine for too much longer since Onyx has no restrains on his time to speak, apparently.

"Might I ask, Elsa, where this Arendelle of yours is located?"

"I regret to say, your Majesty, that I do not know where my Kingdom is in regards to here," Elsa pauses, taking a deep breath as the eyes on her becomes over bearing.

"I was informed about a peculiar information regarding your ship," Elisif speaks after a few minutes of silence.

"Peculiar?"

"Yes, that's what I was told. Witnesses informed me that your ship was seen sailing from the north," Elisif pauses allowing the words to settle in before speaking again. "You are aware what these allegations propose, correct?"

Of course, Elsa is unsure of what to truly say so she responds accordingly by meekly shaking her head. Falk leans towards Elisif and whispers something once again.

"North of Skyrim, pass the Sea of Ghosts lies the continent of Atmora," a chuckle from Onyx causes Elisif to pause from speaking; he shrugs, signaling her to continue. "As far-fetched as that sounds, it is rather thought provoking. A foreign ship that came from the north with an unknown symbol and a woman claiming to be the Queen of an unheard land—what am I to think? Some say that you may be a visitor from Atmora itself."

"You have the right to your thoughts," Elsa responds, "and I cannot put the blame on you or your people for having such assumptions or accusations. I do apologize I cannot offer any sufficient answers at the moment despite me desperately wanting to provide them. But perhaps access to my ship will provide me with some vital knowledge for you, your Majesty."

"Young lady," Falk is the one that responds this time, "you come to Blue Palace with mysteries that apparently far precedes your knowledge. Man and mer corpses, along with two sets of dragon bones decorate the area your ship is docked. To make matters even more suspicious, you come to us with the Dragonborn by your side, who, might I add is the one responsible for the bloodshed left behind. He also cares for no one else's welfare but his own."

"Your harsh words mar your charming facial features, Falk," Onyx's comment is not appreciated for obvious reasons, but Elsa decides to step in before it digresses to more aggressive words.

"I do apologize for bringing disdain and confusion to you, sir. Again I wish I have the answers, but I did not come here on my own accord. I was taken prisoner and my ship was used as transportation."

"Do you have information as to what they could possibly want from you?"

While Hans was very vague, he did provide some information of what he wanted out of her. Though part of Elsa believes that there is a greater purpose to all of this that is far from Hans' understanding.

"No, your Majesty."

Elisif cocks her brow before exchanging glances with Falk. The High Queen then turns to Onyx with a stern expression.

"Dragonborn, perhaps those mercenaries provided some information in fear of what you were eventually going to do to them?"

"No," Onyx responds immediately, "and I'm afraid the dragons gave very little to no substantial information either. Only snarls and claws."

Elsa remembers the dragons well at least to a certain point. Trying to figure out what occurred with them sends an unnatural tingling all over her body—more prominently on her fingers. Clasping her hands in front of her and recomposing herself, she gives her attention back to Elisif and notices the agitation in her face due to Onyx's less substantial answer.

"Your Majesty, I implore you to allow the Dragonborn and myself to gain access to my ship—I understand that there are strange things surrounding my arrival in this land, but I can assure you I mean you no harm."

Silence responds for a few moments minus the glances and the low but audible sound that Onyx makes. Though after what seems like forever, Elisif finally responds after pulling away from Falk.

"What a strange moment this is."

"Pardon, your Majesty?"

"I'm astonished that you wouldn't just claim your ship and be off to wherever you came from."

Elsa's eyes shifts from left to right, observing everyone's reaction, wondering what purpose that statement was for considering that they know nothing about her to judge her behavior. Then it occurred to Elsa as to why and part of her wonders why she didn't grasp that thought immediately. The eyes of Elisif and just about everyone else are burning towards Onyx who of course had stated more than once he had no qualms with doing things without politics or permission. Sighing inwardly, Elsa straightens herself out once more hoping that whatever she has to say would be adequate to appeal to the High Queen.

"With all due respect, your Majesty," Elsa tells Elisif, "I am more than aware that my ship docked with an unknown intent, thus it gives you the right to seize it until it is deemed harmless. With that said, I am also aware that regardless if the crew meant you and your own harm or not, it is still trespassing and with the mess," the elaboration on the last word causes Onyx to turn towards Elsa's direction, "I doubt your precautions in regards to my ship and anyone associated with it are outrageous. But I implore you to allow the Dragonborn and me to at least take a gander inside. We will abide by whatever conditions you deem necessary."

"We?"

"Onyx, please."

The Dragonborn is obviously perturbed by Elsa's words, obvious by his stance—though met by Elsa's pleading yet stern look, somehow Onyx replies with a nod but not after muttering some curse; "Molag-bal" still makes little to no sense to Elsa.

"This is indeed a rare sight," Elisif speaks over the astonished reactions of the room in regards to Onyx's response, "and there are two conditions you two must abide by in order for me to grant this."

"Anything," Elsa's one-word answer is a complete opposite from Onyx's audible frustration and the shrug of his shoulders.

"You will have to be accompanied by some of my men."

"A more than reasonable condition. And the other?"

"At the behest of the people of Solitude, the Dragonborn must remove his helmet at this very moment."

Elsa finds herself blinking a few times before glancing at Onyx who is clearly unhappy with this request. Truth to be told, Elsa has always been curious about what her unlikely ally looks like underneath the odd choice of a helmet that conceals his face. There were a few moments she had the urge to tell him to rip the helmet off, though she never truly pressed on with it for obvious reasons of causing more friction between them. Though it seems that this matter cannot be avoided regardless of Onyx's or her feelings on it. Leaning herself closer to him, Elsa presses on.

"Please," she whispers and he says nothing, instead he merely turns his head at her; she can only imagine what kind of glare Onyx is giving her right now. "Is there any harm to doing so?"

No words, only the hollow response that his masque's face provides.

"If this is one of the factors to get me out of your way, then I suggest you comply with such a meager request."

While the words came out rather fluently, Elsa isn't quite convinced that the request is as small as she stated it to be. Somehow her own words reminded her of her coronation day when the priest told her that taking her gloves off was necessary. To the priest, Anna, and to just about everyone in the chapel, the request was small and not something that would bear any sort of consequence but to Elsa, it meant to convey a secret that she had kept concealed for a good portion of her life. Of course, the secret was unleashed eventually but on the days that she wore the gloves prior to the coronation day, she often found it agitating as well as frightening when someone asked her (politely) to take them off. Perhaps Onyx could have something similar—a complex or a secret that isn't meant for everyone to see. Though any thoughts Elsa had to retract her passion towards Elisif's demand doesn't matter anymore. Onyx speaks while his hands grab both sides of his helmet.

"You've once called me evil and powerful," he says as he starts to pull his helmet off, "though you've also implied that I'm a hero. Where will your judgment stand after this?"

There were plenty of things that could be said about his question but there was little time for Elsa to really dwell on them since Onyx had already started pulling his helmet off. In that moment, Elsa half anticipates and half cringes at what could come out of his face being revealed. Why do Elisif and her people have the need to see his face? Surely this isn't the first time his face has been seen? Is there something Onyx is hiding behind the helmet? As those questions barrage her, the Dragonborn slides his helmet off completely. Raven black hair drops from the action, falling about neck level, barely covering his pointy ears. While his face is gaunt and somewhat gray in skin tone, the oddest thing Elsa focuses on are his eyes; the crimson orbs that have a slight glow to them as he gives his full attention straight ahead. Something about his eyes aside from the ominous color that strikes her somewhat odd. Clearing his throat, Onyx turns towards Elsa, letting her have a straightforward glance at him; the left side of his face, a red mark 'cuts' in a downward pattern through his eye, almost as if a blade made the mark. Though as Elsa studies it closer, it's clear that it is 'drawn', a tattoo of some sort in one of the most painful areas one can have one.

"There, Falk," Elisif breaks the moment causing both Elsa and Onyx to look her direction, "let's put the rumors to rest. I see no trace of evil, just the same man who abhors the act of good will."

The face of evil—more like a man hiding the haggard expression that he seems to wear appropriately with his dry demeanor.

"Onyx abides by your conditions, your Majesty," finally pulling herself away from staring at Onyx, Elsa speaks to Elisif with the same respectful but political tone, trying her best to hide the convoluted feelings she has for the moment that just passed. "Would you grant us the permission to enter my ship now?"

The response is silence until Falk leans on Elisif's ear and whispers something yet again. Whatever it was caused Onyx to take a step towards them, which of course sends the entire room on alert.

* * *

While the ringing in his ears subsided, Hans can still feel the agony. Rubbing it produced very little comfort and the fact that he is following Miraak by himself adds to the idea of discomfort. At least he can take some sort of solace that they are back inside rather than be out in the open where the cold winds can pester him.

"Do you know how to use a blade, prince?" Miraak asks as they turn a corner.

"Of course! I was trained at a young age."

"And this training of yours, was it to teach you how to kill a man, or was it a lesson on how to flaunt yourself aimlessly?"

Hans grits his teeth, unable to truly respond the way he wants to. It is taking everything out of him to control his anger, though by now it's far too obvious and Miraak merely chuckles at what he evokes out of Hans.

"Have you ever killed a man before, Prince?"

"Yes," Hans answers dryly, "a couple. Some of those deaths were for this new purpose I am currently tangled up with."

"I see."

Miraak says nothing else as they enter a room. From the looks of the setup, this place could have been where a meeting took place with the tables lined up together to form one large round table, and chairs circling it, enough to accommodate for a few bodies. Though it's fairly obvious that it's been a long time since anyone stepped foot in this room, and possibly much longer since the last time a meeting occurred.

"Some time ago this is where the neutral place for a gathering occurs," Miraak speaks as he walks towards the tables. "A place where even mortal enemies would sheathe their blades and speak to one another."

Without warning, Miraak's right hand glows in a strange green aura as he points it towards the fire pit that is uniquely placed in the middle of the tables.

"What are you doing?" Hans takes a few steps back, paranoid that Miraak's spell would do him harm. Miraak's attitude towards Hans had more than implied that he has no qualms causing him pain.

"The Lord has a gift for you," he answers calmly. "A prince of your status needs something to announce your glory."

There was sarcasm and Hans was able to catch it right away, though dwelling on it isn't his main concern as the glow from Miraak's hand hovers forward and disperses the moment it flies past the intended target. For a few seconds, the room is lit up in a green light—though the purpose of Miraak's spell isn't for lighting. In a matter of seconds, a set of armor is revealed floating in the air in a way that it could deceive someone that there is a body wearing it. Struck with awe from both the revelation and the sight of the armor itself, Hans makes a slow few steps towards it, reveling in its sight.

"You say it's a gift?"

"A gift that you must use with diligence, Prince."

"For what purpose? Very little things have been revealed to me."

"There's a reason why," Miraak's response is laced with a chuckle. "Though in due time all will be revealed. Just know that this is not just some mere armor. It will be the symbol of the Snow Queen's knight who will walk by her side, raising his blade against anyone who would do her harm, including the Last Dragonborn."

While there were certain things about Miraak's words that confuses Hans, there was one thing that truly stood out and he questions it with a skeptic expression.

"A knight for the Snow Queen? You truly think that she would need help from the one person who was trying to kill her?"

"Do you still have that itch to drive your blade through her neck?"

A moment of pause before an answer comes out of Hans. "If necessary then yes."

"I commend your thirst for bloodshed, Prince. It's partially what makes you fitting to the world of Nirn, however, it won't be necessary for the Snow Queen to die, yet."

"I've been told, however, I fail to see how she won't have the urge to do me harm with everything she has gone through."

"From my understanding, the woman isn't quite fit for her powers," Miraak reaches for the sword accompanying the armor. "Though this land can change anyone. It forces people to adapt or perish."

For a moment, Miraak studies the blade before a pompous grin appears on his face. The 'half argonian' as Hans deems his reptilian face is evidently pleased by whatever the blade evokes out of him. When his observation is finished, Miraak tosses the blade to Hans who barely manages to react, catching the sheathed blade while giving Miraak a glare before turning his attention to the sword. Almost immediately, he recognizes the hilt—the design resembles the one that shattered when Anna jumped in front of his strike.

"Do you believe she will adapt and make use of her powers correctly?"

"She will come to realize that you are the key to her salvation."

"You've said that already and yet you have given me no explanation as to how that will come to be."

Miraak says nothing at fist as he stares at Hans. Then with a flick of his tongue and a grin, he answers.

"Ostracized, lost, and stripped of hope. We will destroy the idea of everything she holds dear. We will make her believe that home is no more and that her fate lies in this new world. We will dismantle every piece of her that makes her. We will force insanity to be every breath she takes and at the very end, she will succumb to it. Eventually, the Snow Queen will come to understand that in order for her to truly find herself, she must truly uphold the idea of letting go of the past. In order to do that, she has to come to terms that you are her greatest ally. Then slowly, you make her forget her past and keep her eyes gazing to the future where she can be your Queen and you are the Knight. That is of course if you have the fortitude to carry on this burden, Prince."

Hans stands there for a moment staring at Miraak's back as those words left his mouth. Pieces of the puzzles are given to him and despite it being cryptic; at least it's something. With the final sentence more of a taunt than anything, Hans can't help but smirk and responds accordingly.

"Make her believe that there is no way back to her precious Anna and Arendelle. Then you force her to go crazy enough to trust someone like me?"

"Do you not find it entertaining, Prince? Is the plan too much of an aberration from your fairy tale dream?"

Hans' smirk remains on his face even as Miraak gives him a little of his attention by turning his head.

"With all due respect, Miraak, you must've read my commitment wrong," Hans takes a step forward. "I am all for this and everything that entails with this. Though I do want to point out that you are Evil. And I truly respect that."

The reptilian eye glows as his tongue slithers and after that Miraak turns away from Hans completely as he starts walking away.

"_Evil is relative_."

Miraak's last words echo amongst the empty space of the room. Hans lets out a 'hmph' as soon as Miraak disappears around the corner before turning his eyes towards the armor. A feeling of elation starts to build up inside of him as the idea of him putting on the armor and fighting for its meaning starts to truly dawn on him.

**To Be Continued.**


	14. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen VI

"At the behest of the people of Solitude, the Dragonborn _must_ remove his helmet in this very moment."

It took everything in me not to say something. In a normal circumstance, I would say my opinion in a way that would have ended this meeting the way it always does, however something else is at stake here—something far greater than me, I must admit.

"Please," Elsa pressing the issue on doesn't exactly help and I glare at her accordingly. "Is there any harm to doing so?"

Any harm in doing so she asks. Coming from a woman who is completely oblivious of what goes on in my world—this world. Coming from a woman who seems to posses an inexplicable frost magic that coincides with her naïve mindset on how she sees things.

"If this is one of the factors to get me _out of your way_, then I suggest you comply to such a meager request."

A meager request? How could the act of me taking off my helmet in broad daylight in front of people who despises my existence be considered small? I continue to glare at her as she stands there staring at me. But out of nowhere something shifts in her expression as if she is lost in thought about something. Her attention still directed at me but that odd and empty look in her face is quite the opposite of how it was moments ago and I'm intrigued at what could be going on in her mind. But it occurs to me that I have spent too much time yet again being intrigued; while her display of speaking to Elisif and her entire court had its impressive moments (despite some of the politics being absurdly hilarious to me), it's still too much time on my part to be squandering on her. It's been a long time since I actually allowed Elisif to see my face, but I suppose this is as good of a time as any to let her have that opportunity again. Besides, it might just be the key I need to finally be done with Elsa and the chaos that follows her.

"You've once called me _evil_ and powerful," I tell her as the helmet slowly slides off, "though you've also implied that I'm a hero. Where will your judgment stand after this?"

Why would her opinion matter? Why is it I even bothered to vocalize that thought to her when she can't and won't understand certain things? After this, she won't be with me for very much longer so why do I truly care? As I finally take my helmet off, I can't help but feel Elsa's gaze on me—studying me. The staring lasts a bit longer that I would say that it _almost_ felt uncomfortable… almost. Tilting my head, I meet her gaze and for that moment, her icy blue eyes are finally meeting mine without the walls of the Masque. She's studying me… searching for something it seems and I don't quite know what.

"There, Falk," but the moment Elisif speaks, both Elsa and I look away from each other and give our attention back to the High Queen, "let's put the rumors to rest. I see no trace of evil, just the same man who abhors the act of good will."

There is a lot to take in with those kinds of words—a double-sided statement. I am more than willing to respond to them when the time is right, though obviously, this moment isn't it as Elsa speaks in response to Elisif's words.

"Onyx abides by your conditions, your Majesty. Would you grant us the permission to enter my ship now?"

The momentary pause doesn't exactly ease some of the tension that is always built up whenever I'm in front of Elisif, though I will admit, the air feels different with Elsa taking over the entire conversation. I fight the urge to look at her since I have to keep close attention at the studying eyes of Elisif and Falk. Bolgrier's glares I don't really bother to consider important, though I find it amusing that he still feels the need to try and intimidate me. Then Falk leans towards Elisif and does what he annoyingly has done the whole time: whisper something to her, ignoring the fact that I can hear what he is saying quite clearly.

"Ask him to step into the light," Falk whispers, "only then we'll we be able to—"

Before Elisif's steward can finish those words, I step forward, letting the light piercing from the windows above hit me directly. I won't lie to myself; it stings. It burns, actually. But for the sake of the moment, I don't' show the emotion. Serana always used to remind me that with the Volkihar blood and the fact that I am Dragonborn makes me a different breed of vampire lord altogether. I have a few certain advantages and one of those said advantages is that the pain of the light isn't shown so obviously. If they wanted to know if I was a vampire, this doesn't give them much unless I give them the reaction.

"If you have _something_ to say to me, Falk, say it in a tone that would make you sound like a man and not some gossiping midwife."

"Onyx! What are you doing?"

"I'm proving a point," I respond to Elsa as I keep my glare on Falk, "as you have proved yours. They want guards to follow us to your ship? We've accepted. They want me to take off my helmet? I complied. What else would you lay upon our feet, Falk? Tell me in person and stop using _your_ High Queen as a shield."

It always occurs when I am inside the Blue Palace: strange awkward silence, the guards fidgeting and unsure whether to respond with blades drawn out or not, then we have Bolgeir who wants _any_ reason to start the fight with me. Elisif is always ignorant of actions to take and Falk remains at her side like some domestic dog; at this given moment, all of those norms are enhanced and I can tell that the new face, Elsa, is trying to find some words to calm the 'routine'.

"Please, this will not help anything," she found those words rather quickly. "Please?"

I keep my glare at Falk for a few moments—my right hand twitching to reach for Muramasa as I hear Bolgeir's armor clanking in his attempt to not attack. I take a moment to glance at Elisif who is pleading with her eyes… and then Elsa's words are ringing in my head.

"I want to go home."

Elsa stated in a low voice, but it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear it. It was definitely in my hearing range and from the sound of it, it wasn't so much of a whisper, but her voice cracking into a desperate plea. I stop momentarily… my irritation and my need to further press my point to these people suddenly vanishes and I can't help but turn to Elsa. Judging from her facial expression, she is trying to remain as collected as she can; trying fervently to keep her presence as Queen-like as she can, but in those eyes I can see… I can feel her desperation. I _know_ her desperation. I've felt it before—a long time ago.

* * *

_"I want to go home."_

It was ages ago. Oblivion it feels like another lifetime. But the pain of his hand slapping me across my face—I can still feel it like he just struck me a moment ago.

_"Mind yourself boy," _he told me as he stood over my whimpering form, _"crying about it won't change the fact that your home, your mother, and your useless father are **gone**_._ Oblivion took them from you."_

I was a _young_ boy when Selvus told me that, but I was old enough to know that he and his men were the ones that burned my home to the ground. They murdered my father because he cost them more than enough septims. They committed the same atrocious act on my mother but after they took her for themselves. I remember her screams; they still echo in my nightmare… I can still visualize the moment when her eyes drew blank. She died before they slit her throat. To me, she died the moment she didn't lift a hand to protect her kin. Who was worse? A mother who gave up on her child at a pivotal moment? Or a father who tried too hard for something he was inept at accomplishing?

Questions that haunt my mind every day. They reverberate within my thoughts far louder than a dragon's shout.

* * *

I shake the thoughts off as quickly as I can as I face Elisif and Falk; this time I lower my aggressive stance and change my demeanor altogether to concur with the way Elsa was handling things. "Is there anything else you need in order for us to enter the ship? Time is of the essence and we would greatly appreciate it if we waste no more of it."

The High Queen glances downwards before turning to her steward who still wishes to burn me with his glare. I meet his, clutching my Masque tightly, wishing nothing more than to place it over my head once more. When Falk shakes his head, Elisif responds to my question.

"No, Dragonborn," she tells us, "that is all. We shall send guards to accompany you shortly."

"Thank you, your majesty," Elsa responds immediately. Not the words I would have used.

"Though we are curious as to what you will do if you find what you need in there."

I had already turned around and started to make my way towards the stairs when Falk said those words. I know what I would say, but I look at Elsa in hopes that she can say something that would better fit the situation.

"We hope to have an answer for you after we return."

Elsa bows her head and turns around, waiting for me to lead. I take my first few steps down the stairs and I can't hold it. I have to say something.

"If only you could use your powers as well as your words."

It only took three more steps until she responds. "If only you could use your words as well as your blade."

Those words… I chuckle due to the irony of that. Despite her politeness, within all that ignorance and fear, inside that regal and political presence lies a woman with fieriness to her and I have witnessed it peeking through the small windows of opportunity presented to her. It's amusing, to say the least. If anything else, at least I have been rather entertained with her presence here and there. Without any more words to be said, we make our way to our destination.

* * *

There are some that would say that Nords spend little time with the aesthetics of their ships and I would say that they are wrong. Of course they're not as fancy or as extravagant as the ones I've helped looted in Cyrodiil. Boethiah knows just how much the rich and the royals of Cyrodiil love their expensive carpet and brandies decorating their room. Their ships aren't spared of such expensive taste, which of course made them targets for bandits and raiders. Nords don't go as far as that but they do make sure that their ships are recognized. Though while they are _very_ adamant at making sure that everyone close to them at sea would know of their pride and prowess, Nords are far more interested in stability and battle ready whet it comes to their ship. They often ridiculed Cyrodiil for their flaunting and dramatics. Though being inside Elsa's ship, I can't help but ponder what the Solitude guards thought. Just the floral emblems alone would make an axe wielding Nord feel uncomfortable. Or how about that despite being out in the open sea for however many days or weeks, the ship managed to retain the unnaturally sweet aroma as soon as we entered Elsa's private quarters? Sure I can tell that her captors made themselves 'at home' with the obvious wear and tear from their drunken skirmishes, the mess from their meals, and the stains of doing their business. Still… it's astonishingly a bit _too clean_.

"What is it that you intend to find?"

As for Elsa, she seems rather at home, least aesthetically speaking. Her fashion statement and the décor of the ship concur with each other. The wallpaper definitely adheres to the color scheme she is wearing—bordeaux, teal, and floral designs and all. Though the dejected look on her face doesn't seem to match. Having spent enough time studying the bookshelf full of foreign books, I walk towards her as her gaze seems to be fixated on something on the table.

"Anything," I pause responding to her, walking pass a chair with some ropes hanging loosely on it. "Something out of place."

Elsa was probably held in this very room—her room. Her only connection to her world is here, and it was also the means of bringing her to Skyrim.

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that," there's a bit of humor in her tone, "you're the one thing I truly see as out of place at the moment."

She gives me a faint smile as if trying to lighten up the situation. The gloom she is feeling is still obvious; the ship itself is colder than it should be. A product of her powers I would surmise. I would smile back, but she won't see it, nor does she need to. Though something catches my attention on the table and I reach for it, pulling it closer to me so I can have a better look.

"What in the name of Boethiah is that?"

It's a picture inside a frame, also crated with the same care and style as everything in this place. A picture drawn by someone who obviously has talent since I quickly recognized Elsa in it. Odd to see her so relaxed, so _happy_ despite the odd setting of her sitting down on a reindeer who happens to be looking forward with the same elation as everyone else in the picture. While Elsa truly was the center of my attention, I couldn't help but ask what she was carrying. It resembles a strange atronach with an incredibly peculiar shape and with a purpose I can't fathom. It is definitely a bit too jovial looking to be dangerous—knowing what I know about Elsa, it probably is just that: friendly and harmless. Though that atronach she summoned in the fight against her captors that turned against me was an exact opposite of 'harmless'.

"What in heavens is a bowie-thee-ah? Or mole-ag ball?"

If only she can see the look on my face, brow cocked and a slight hint of amusement. If I didn't know any better, I would say that was sarcasm being thrown at me and I find it rather … _cute_. Though I am aware that her obliviousness is at play here and she really has no clue as to who the Daedric Queen of shadows and Daedric King of rape are. That might actually be a good thing, truth to be told.

"And if you are referring to Olaf, he is a snow man whom I gave to life to," my eyes widen as she continues to explain. "I suppose you can say that he is a symbol of mine and Anna's love."

There was jubilance in her voice as she explained Olaf and what he is. Truthfully, I'm a bit appalled that this strange being, one that has big round eyes, a carrot for a nose, and twigs for hands has the same name as one of the most legendary Nords to ever walk Skyrim; one who became the High King due to his tales of defeating a dragon and trapping him. I met him in Sovngarde and he is nothing like this 'Olaf' in this picture.

"Numinex's bones would turn if news of _this_ Olaf reaches him," she gives me that perplexed look right after I said those words but she doesn't go any farther than that. Turning my attention back towards the picture, I take note of the young woman who is sitting next to Elsa who is holding her hand quite affectionately. "Yours and Anna's bond, you said?"

"Yes," Elsa responds with a smile.

"This must be Anna, I assume?" she nods as I point to the young woman next to her. "Is she your lover?"

Elsa lets out a cough—a genuine cough as if she just choked off the question I just asked her. I had the urge to try and comfort her, but I realize that healing is not entirely my strong suit so I just stand there staring at her, waiting for her to explain why in the Oblivion she is reacting the way she is.

"If it's any consolation, she is a pretty girl," I add.

"She's my sister for heaven's sake!" she finally managed after a minute or two of coughing. Of course the revelation of the 'bond' she is talking about brings me to pull the picture closer to me to have a better look.

"Take no offense to this but she looks nothing like you."

"Are you blind?! Perhaps you need to look at it closer without that peculiar helmet on your head!"

Truth to be told, there are _some_ similarities, but Elsa just looks a bit too 'enchanting' for me to notice. It's almost as if Elsa received most of the blessings of the Divines and Anna was just born with the natural beauty of a mortal. Elsa next to Anna is… well; Anna just looks insipid in my eyes.

"What element does your _sister_ control?" I change the subject, since it's quite apparent that Elsa is still taken back with my question of their relationship.

"If you are asking if she has any magic, no, she does not wield any," well that dilutes this Anna even more. "Yet she has persistence like no other and the ability to give unconditional, unwavering love no matter what."

I study the picture even more as I listen to her words. "Why are you all sitting on a reindeer?"

"That's Sven, Kristoff's… um… best friend."

"Sven?" this is getting odd. I remember Sven from Riverwood. Poor man. Someone wanted him and his mother gone and I could only wonder who. Gave that contract to one of the trainees. "Kristoff is—?"

"Not my lover if you were thinking of asking that," Elsa was quick to interrupt in that regard. "He is Anna's true love, supposedly."

True love? A jovial atronach that is a representation of her and her sister's bond? Sounds like Elsa's life is far less tainted than my own and honestly, I can't hold that against her. Though once again I am hampered by the idea that she _has_ to get back to her Arendelle. Tamriel—Skyrim is no place for a woman like her. Putting the picture down, I decide that it's time to begin searching again for something that would indicate a clue, some kind of conduit, something that resembles a Daedric artifact, a sigil stone, _anything at all_ but I find nothing however. I'm starting to feel that this is as much of a dead end as asking Elsa questions about information on how to get her back.

"You're a strange person, you know that?" I pause, closing the cabinet as I let her words sink in. "I mean, this Skyrim is as strange as they come, but you are a mystery beyond my understanding."

She stands there, still staring at the picture. The direction of her gaze barely acknowledging me as she said those words, but it's no doubt that she is more than paying attention to me. I let out a chuckle before I respond.

"You should meet Kharjo, he's stranger than they come."

But Elsa won't meet him, nor will she experience more of what Skyrim has to offer. I'm planning on getting her out of here as soon as I can for her sake and mine—for Skyrim's sake as well, I suppose. Something however steers me from those thoughts. Something outside seems to be amiss. Elsa must have heard it too with the obvious change of her demeanor.

"Dragonborn!" one of the guards bursts in with a very frantic posture. "We are under attack!"

He merely confirmed what I already knew and without so much of a hesitation, I make my way outside, with the guard leading us up the stairs, and Elsa following behind me. The moment we get outside we are greeted by the sight of battle; the guards who are accompanied us are in disarray while the skies are hailing of arrows. Two shot, one dead, the other most likely going to die as he suffer from an arrow burning him. I find myself summoning spellbreaker, blocking a flaming arrow. Elsa herself summons a wave of ice that aids the soldiers by deterring the arrows in midair.

"They struck before we knew it," I run to the one in command, my shield up high along with his, "I don't know who they are or what they want!"

I have some theories, but best not to share it at this given moment. Quickly running to the edge, I once again hold Spellbreaker high as I survey our unknown assailants. Ten archers according to their aura who are using high grounds as an advantage for defense and offense. I can't quite get a good look since the rocks of the hill are keeping them concealed.

"Onyx, my ship!"

I already knew what Elsa meant. The arrows are not only in flames for more pain but also to cause enough damage if it they hit something flammable, like this ship for instance. Each arrow is obviously doused with some kind of potent alchemy that triggers wildfire by impact, thus making them far more lethal and dangerous. Escape from this ship is priority since this will go down when the archers get as much arrows here as they can.

"Get your men out of here," I tell the commander. "I will buy you some time for escape and then head for the archers."

I shout—one word that would pierce the barrier between this world and Sovngarde. The legendary warrior immediately responds, shield and sword ready as she charges forward.

"Let those who watch from Sovngarde envy us today!"

I'm not much for her battle cries but Gormlaith's conviction is exactly what is needed. Her aggressive and up-close tactic will buy me the time needed taking some of the archers' attention. Of course sheer valor alone won't be enough so I call forth some spectral wolves to aid her. Almost immediately, the archers start focusing on the specter Nord and the familiars. The wolves' number decreases quickly enough before they had the chance to reach the shore; luckily they attracted some of the arrows and it gives the Solitude Soldiers the clearing to travel with speed across the bridge. As they reach the shore, they take charge, following Gormlaith's act of rushing with shield in lead.

"Onyx! We have to do something!"

Then we have Elsa who hasn't made an effort towards safety. Instead she is fervently trying to extinguish the flames with her powers.

"What are you doing?" I ask her in a scolding tone. "You have to get out of here."

"What does it look like I'm doing?!"

While the archers are now dealing with the summoned warrior, their objective still stands: this ship will fall on their watch. While trying to keep Gormlaith and the last of the familiar at bay, they are making sure at least some are still focusing their shots towards us, or at least adding more damage to the ship. Though all that is abruptly changing as the Solitude soldiers are now making their way towards the hill in an alarming speed.

"The fire is spreading faster than you can deter it! We have to go!"

Elsa doesn't reply, instead she merely narrows her eyes and continues to do the opposite of what I told her to do. Gritting my teeth, I make my way towards her to force my way but the sudden appearance of two Argonians from the waters below makes me reach for Muramasa. Without so much of a warning, one of them grabs Elsa and retreats the same way it came in: by jumping down the waters below. Obviously the one left behind is to stall me and with a hiss, it attacks, its axe in one hand while shield in the other. I do not have the time for this and I make it known.

"_Fus_!"

That one word staggers the reptile and that allowed me the one thing I intend to do: end the fight. I plunge Muramasa right through his chest and as soon as I can, I kick him off to pull my blade out, leaving the Argonian on the ground to bleed to death. I make haste, sheathing my blade and jumping off the ship in pursuit. As soon as I submerge I swim after Elsa as the Argonian drags her with undeniable speed. Boethiah curse these reptiles for having the waters as their advantage and any effort I make in swimming does not match their natural ability to weave through the sea. Luckily this one has to contend with dragging Elsa along which greatly decreases its speed—and perhaps a Divine is smiling down on me since Elsa is making a trail of ice that is creating two things: a trail to follow and land for me to use. Whether that is intentional or just merely a product of her emotions matters not to me; I now have a way to reach her in a familiar terrain and not a moment too soon since more Argonians are swimming towards me. Reaching the ice path, I push myself up and quickly reengage in my pursuit. That act however is short lived since one of the Argonians jump in front of me and another lands behind me. A narrow ice ground is not the best case for this, but my choices are slim as they attack. I quickly grab Avarice and shoot the one in front before turning behind me to face the other. Unfortunately it reaches me and I am forced to use Avarice to parry its blade—ebony and dwemer metal definitely does help keep this crossbow durable; when I get the chance, I'll thank Serana again for such a useful gift. _If she ever talks to me again_.

Losing its blade doesn't deter this pond scum however. He lunges forward, grabbing Avarice and makes its best attempt to push me back into the waters where its advantage is strongest. As he pushes even more, I loosen up my stance for a moment, causing the reptile to stumble forward and in the right moment, I lunge my knee, hitting him directly between his legs and while he won't react the same way I or any other man or mer would, it had the reaction I needed out of him. He bends forward and right into the horns of my Masque. The Argonian lets out a gurgling sound as one of the horns punctured his throat, his blood dripping and trickling down my face as I push the horns deeper—his grip loosens and soon it takes a mere push for him to fall back into the waters. Before more Argonian's can come my way, I continue my chase, loading Avarice along the way, hoping that the time I spent dealing with my assailants didn't set me back completely. I spot a boat in the distance and I can only assume that it belongs to the attackers. I won't reach Elsa in time before that Argonian can get her to that boat, but I have to try. As I prepare to shout to sprint faster, something happens in front of me that gives me hope for the situation; pillars of ice starts erecting from the cold waters and within those pillars, an Argonian wriggles in pain as he is impaled by the ice construct. Not a second later I see Elsa emerging from the waters, grabbing on to the ice ledge that she had created.

"_Wuld Nah_!" I rush to her side, aiding her off the waters as she continues to cough and gasp for air. "We must move. I can only assume that more are coming."

Slowly nodding her head, Elsa tries her best to regain her composure. Obviously the amount of time of being rushed and submerged in cold waters took its toll. Though I am now more than sure that the cold doesn't bother her with the way she is now standing in that fancy blue dress, soaking wet, and not one sign of her shivering to death.

"On a side note, you have to conjure a better battle attire than that."

While still trying her best to regain herself, she gives me a confused glare before pushing herself off of me, realizing quite quickly that most of her body was leaning on me for support. I didn't put much thought into it until… she made it a thought.

"My… ship.." I glance towards its direction; the flames are starting to take over most of it, "…we have to get… there…"

"You can't save it."

"… please… I have to get back… there…"

That's the second time I see those pleading eyes in a matter of a couple of hours. Something about the way she stares at me with those glowing blue orbs that somehow gets to me. I'm not sure if I feel sorry or what but with a growl, I put Avarice away.

"Make a path towards it then," I tell her angrily, "and hold on. And do try to not squirm too much, Snow Queen."

"Wait… what?!"

And this would be the second time I go out of my way and scoop her in my arms, carrying her like some half wit fallen in love man would take his half ogling giggling lover. Her reaction is far from giggling however—more like stunned and the only reaction she was able to omit is a gasp along with grabbing on to any crevice of my cuirass that she can for support.

"If you are finished, the path to your ship is required."

Having realized her reaction, Elsa quickly lets go and proceeds to call upon her powers to make the said path. With the strange snowflake insignia appearing, the water starts to freeze and immediately shoots straight towards her ship, giving me the proper route I need. I _shout_ and not a moment after, I sprint across the frozen path getting us to our unfortunate destination. Elsa makes it easier on me by elevating a pillar of ice allowing me to hop into the burning ship.

"Even if you have the power to stop this fire the damage is done!" I tell her as she eases herself off of my arms and starts smothering the fire with her powers. "This is asinine and it will only—"

"Are you going to stand there and just talk?!"

I could summon a storm to make the job quicker, but I have to conserve myself in the scenario that I might have to deal with something stronger. The archers have stopped firing, which could mean that the guards and Gormlaith succeeded; that's one good thing at least. But Elsa isn't having the luck she wanted and the flames keep climbing higher.

"Your ship is no longer fit for travel! There is nothing useful in it! We have _to go_!"

Those words didn't settle quite well. In fact it did the exact opposite: it enraged her. Putting her hands in front of her, a small snowstorm forms between her palms and with one angry shout, she propels it forward, letting it hit the intended area. The result is immediate and the fire around the vicinity is extinguished. At first I assumed she was merely putting out the flames at random, but the moment she runs through the path she just cleared, down the stairs and towards her private quarters, I come to the realization that she had something in mind.

"Elsa!" I call to her, half tempted to let her be and the other half, well—the fire is engulfing her ship faster by the second. If the fire doesn't consumer her, it's the fact that there will be a whole entire ship collapsing in that will be her undoing. Much to my agitation, I run after her, my heavy steps nearly going through the fire damaged staircase. "Pay no attention to me who has the natural ability to point out that this is one of the most _asinine_ thing you have done for the duration we have known each other!"

Though the moment I enter she's already barging through me, exiting as fast as she went in. "I heard you the first time! Let's go!"

I clench my fists and have the urge to let loose a stream of curses but the best action to take is to follow her and get out of this burning death trap. At the very least she reinforces the steps by covering them with ice. Another proof that her magic with frost is not the norm in Skyrim. It seems her ability to create forms made of ice and snow on the whim is only limited by her imagination and emotions, which makes her far more dangerous than she lets on. Though as of right now, what she created is for our benefit and creating another staircase from the edge of the ship to the shore is more than appreciated since the original path that connected the ship to the docking bridge burned some time ago. I didn't enjoy jumping off the ship the first time and a second time would be considered annoying.

"What was so important that had you risk your life?!" I shout at her after we put enough space between the fire and us. Though I didn't need her to answer as I quickly recognize the picture that she is clutching in her hand. "_That_?! In the name of all Daedras are you _serious?!_"

She barely acknowledges my tirade, which infuriates me even more. Instead she keeps looking towards the sight of her burning ship. I continue to glare at her, wanting nothing more than to perpetuate my yelling but something tells me that it would be a waste. That and the guards are now running to me. Least I can give my attention to some who are somewhat competent on what is going on in this world.

"Tell me that you have some kind of good news," my irritation carrying over to the guards. "I would like to hear that you at least detained one of them."

"Your warrior fought hard and managed to take down most of them," of course she did, she's a legendary warrior that once banished Alduin, "we were going to take them as prisoners, but they killed themselves before we had the chance to get close."

This isn't unheard of in Tamriel and I will say that whoever the attackers were poses far more danger than the ones who kidnapped Elsa. For their cause, they were willing to take their own lives so that the secret of their mission would be preserved. Sounds like a Dark Brotherhood creed… but it's not them. Though the strategy of their attack and the lives they took gives them enough credit to be labeled as _dangerous _as the Assassins. I look pass the guard who is obviously not the same one who was in charge. That man is now being carried by two of his soldiers—dead with arrows through his arms and chest. Judging from how many are left, three men are dead, not including the two who are burning in the ship; just what I needed: more things to explain to Elisif.

"We took the liberty of unmasking them," another guard walks towards me and I find myself standing rigid with what he is holding in his hand, "two Bosmers and the rest are Dunmers."

I pay no attention to his last words. What he is handing me… the mask of the archers is enough to send me to a spiral of confusion and… _fear_. The zealots who followed Miraak wore the same masks… these Dragonborn cultists were a thorn in my side for the simple fact that they carried the message of the one man who nearly succeeded in killing me. I stare at the sloppily carved eyes of the mask… the memories comes back… and I would have stared at it for as long as the memories keep haunting but an explosion from the distance takes my eyes away from it. The ship that the Argonian was trying to take Elsa to is now in flames. The cause of the explosion is obviously from within. They failed their mission like the archers, thus their fate are now sealed in flames.

Miraak's followers return in pursuit of their vengeance for the death of their 'god' and the appearance of the Snow Queen that carries my apparent doom.

None of it makes any sense. As the fire devour the ship from the distance, Elsa's own ship is now starting to crumble. Little by little it starts to fall into the waters and the ominous sight of her symbol being burned is… daunting… at least for her. I take a moment to observe her as she stands there like a statue staring at her demolished property. I think I understand now why she risked her safety for that picture she holds so dearly in her hands. If I fail to bring her home, that would be the last keepsake of her former life.

With the unknown forces that seem to be appearing out of nowhere, the task of bring her home isn't as easy as I thought. I suppose it was prudent of her to have some semblance of her Arendelle—of her sister in the case I fail to bring her home.

**To Be Continued.**


	15. Elsa: With Great Power

The stench of the fire hovers over Elsa much to her disdain. The soldiers reek of it, the air is heavy with the smoke, and the memento she saved barely escaped the onslaught, thus making it the most prominent thing that carries the smell of the flames. To Elsa, the idea of the memento lost forever would have been a much worse of an outcome so she can take a bit of solace in it smelling like the way it does. The picture had been a 'comfort item' that Elsa made sure would be present whenever she travelled. One would consider it childish for a grown woman—for a Queen—to require such an item to keep her company in her travels, but Elsa's past justifies it. Saving the item would be a small victory that she would need to hold on to since the last day or so had been frugal in regards to victories.

"I was told your name is Elsa," a voice peels Elsa away from staring at the picture of her and her family.

"It is," she responds to the soldier who is now riding next to her. "I apologize but I did not get your name."

The man manages a smile that is fairly obvious despite the facial hair covering his lips. His gaunt and battle-ridden face must not smile too often since it seems to be a rather awkward expression as he responds. "Luvthe."

"An honor to know the name of a brave man," Elsa tells Luvthe with as much sincerity as she can despite feeling distraught. It's pretty easy for Elsa to see that within the man's brave front is someone who just endured a life threatening experience, so trying to alleviate some of the trauma is her first thought. Luvthe responds glumly with a nod, almost as if the encouragement had an opposite affect.

"Your words are kind and I thank you for giving them. I must also extend my gratitude for your own bravery. You saved us with your magic."

It takes Elsa a moment to realize that the act of her warding off some of the arrows with her magic was what Luvthe was talking about. She quickly realizes that Luvthe was one of the soldiers who were too busy tending to the wounded to raise his shield—then again, he was wearing his helmet like all of them so recognizing who is who would be impossible at this point. Morbidly, some of the 'faceless' soldiers are now lost forever. Not all the bodies would make it back to see their loved ones, which greatly pains Elsa. At least her actions did save a few even though she feels that the ones who died are on her hands; like her own soldiers who accompanied her who were murdered by Hans' allies.

"That kind of magic," Elsa retracts herself from her guilt and gives Luvthe her attention once more as he speaks, "where did you learn it? And what is it? I have never seen frost used the way you used it."

"The School of Alteration is one of her patrons," the familiar sound of Onyx's voice breaks through the conversation. "Destruction also has a bit of influence in the way she uses her magicka."

Luvthe immediately straightens up his posture as the Dragonborn comes riding from behind with his skeletal horse. After finally 'talking' Elsa to peel her eyes away from the sight of her burning ship, Onyx rode off in an attempt to scout for any more attackers so one could be detained, but seeing how he arrived empty handed, the answer is quite clear as to how that endeavor turned out.

"An impressive show of alteration magic," Luvthe implies as he survey's Elsa's ice dress, "magic such as that is rare."

"_Rare_ indeed," a terse response comes from Onyx's.

Elsa says nothing, keeping her eyes looking down while her hands remain firm on Frost's reigns. It's a strange thing to hear people talk about her magic as if it's not the only one; while visiting other kingdoms back at 'home', people would gawk and sometimes cheer at the slightest display of Elsa's powers. There were even gossips that insinuated fear or doubt—some still hold the 'Eternal Winter' against Elsa and she can hardly blame them. Astonished, impressed, and afraid are all reactions Elsa is more than used to but Skyrim seems to offer a new point of view with the citizens trying to figure out 'how and what kind' of magic she has. They seem to be curious more than anything else.

"I shall ride ahead."

Seeing as how Onyx and Elsa didn't offer any more room for the conversation to continue, Luvthe does as he says, leaving the two in each other's company. Given how Onyx's last few words were offered in the form of yelling and scolding, Elsa has very little desire to speak, especially when she is still dwelling at the idea that she lost a huge piece of helping her get back home. Of course a ship is easily replaced to some extent, but that was _her_ ship. It did hold some sentiment far more than what Elsa believes Onyx can understand.

"Alteration is a far fetched idea with how your magic works but I suppose it's the best explanation I can give," of course Onyx's way of starting a conversation further decimates any form of comfort at the moment, which elicits an inner growl from Elsa. "Still, they'll be even more suspicious now that they have seen your magic. It will also make their claims of you coming from Atmora even more of a plausible one."

Once again most of Onyx's words in regards to information are lost on Elsa. If she needed anymore evidence that she is stranded in a brand new world, she would simply slip into insanity far beyond she is capable of undoing. Taking a deep breath, Elsa poises herself, staring straight ahead of her and trying her very best to reassume her usual, confident demeanor; though confidence and feeling 'in control' is hardly something that is easy to attain as of late.

"What do we do now?" Elsa asks sternly, ignoring Onyx's previous words.

"What kind of answer are you seeking?"

"None of your sarcasm, that much I can tell you."

Elsa can tell that Onyx is staring at her from her peripheral vision. However, she doesn't give him the respect of even staring at him. His admonishing words from earlier about her fetching the picture are still ringing in her head.

"Elisif is going to want answers, so I'll have to gleefully prance inside the Blue Palace and explain," and of course he can't leave sarcasm behind. "What we do after that, well, I do wish I can give you what you want to hear. There are a few things that makes this a bit more complicating than I would want."

As if complication is what Elsa needs at the moment. "The men who shot at us, are you familiar with them?"

While she didn't bother to examine the headwear of their assailants, Elsa was able to catch Onyx staring at their masks before he tossed them aside. The way he was studying them made it quite obvious to Elsa that there might be more to them than just mere mercenaries. Their act of committing suicide because of their 'failure' more than insinuates that they are far more.

"That's the complicating part," Onxy's response confirms Elsa's suspicion, "I _used_ to be familiar with them."

"Used to be?"

"I was under the impression that their faction disassembled after their leader was… killed."

There was something in Onyx's tone that Elsa caught. The way he spoke seemed off putting, as if he is seething with an emotion not fitting for someone like him.

"What were their intentions before?"

"Why does that matter now?" Onyx responds sharply, causing Elsa to narrow her eyes.

"It matters because they were responsible for taking more lives and destroying my ship!"

Her tone was loud and her emotions were strong. Frost neighs in response to feeling Elsa's emotions in the form of her powers reacting; both Onyx and soldiers stares at her as well. The Solitude men were all in shock that such a small statured woman could produce that much voice, while Onyx is merely observing the leather cord she is holding on to starting to freeze. Realizing the product of her small outburst, Elsa calms herself, taking deep breaths while straightening out her posture.

"They were zealots who wanted me to know about their master," amidst Elsa's attempt to calm her nerves, Onyx responds with some information, surprisingly. "Their message was that I was a fallacy. I was not the real Dragonborn despite my victory over Alduin."

Fanatics are usually a bad omen from Elsa's experience. There are still neighboring kingdoms of Arendelle that have people who would spread slander about Elsa, claiming that she is a sorceress or some evil Snow Queen. Elsa spends little time dignifying their claims since she still has much to rebuild; regaining some of the rapports she lost during the Eternal Winter was and will always be her main priority in terms of royal business outside her kingdom. Dealing with minorities outside her rule isn't exactly productive unless they become a threat. It's no surprise that fanatics in Skyrim would be more than a threat. For this case, whatever message they wanted Onyx to hear in the past was crucial enough to reach the lengths of physical altercations. Clearly with what had transpired, things are still _that_ crucial, but what was the point of destroying her ship? Is it because of the reason that Onyx is spending the time to help her? Now that Elsa thinks about it, why is he so adamant about helping her despite his resentment in doing so? Too many questions and not enough answers. Even his small explanation about the zealots proved a bit too vague with what little to no knowledge Elsa knows about Skyrim. Though she is getting used to hearing words like Dragonborn and Alduin, along with 'Molag-Bal' and 'Boethiah'.

"It's going to be a very difficult task for me to talk to Queen Elisif when I know nothing about any of this…"

A chuckle comes out of Onyx before he replies. "It's a task to talk to Elisif no matter what. In regards to you, what are you concerned about? They are more than aware that you are not from here—or perhaps they are still in the 'she's just insane' stage of thinking," more sarcasm. "Who knows? But you need to rest. I'll talk to Elisif."

For a few seconds, Elsa wanted to retaliate with Onyx's unnecessary sarcasm, but she decides on giving him a half fake 'chuckle' before speaking. "Your idea of 'talking' probably makes them think you are insane."

Elsa didn't need words or to see his face to know that her sarcasm got to Onyx. His posture and his head tilting to the side is enough.

"All jesting aside, what do you expect me to do now while you deal with that?"

"Rest. Rejuvenate. We need to travel back to Heljarchen Hall soon."

Rest, he says. To Elsa, not being in her own bed, not being around family—around Anna—rejuvenation is hardly attainable. Aside from being stripped away from familiar grounds, there are thoughts swirling about Elsa's head that haunts her and a particular one is pounding at head this very moment.

"Whoever brought me in Skyrim must really want me to stay here."

The comment was out of the blue, especially after a few minutes of silence. But it was something she had to say out loud. The fact is pretty obvious that the forces responsible for these events are adamant about keeping Elsa where she is; the destruction of her ship is testament of their intent. Unable to stop them from forming, tears starts to pour from her eyes as the image of her ship burning truly starts to sink in.

"Whoever brought you in Skyrim really wants to die," then the harsh words of her ebony clad companion halts her immediate need to shed tears. "You'll find your way back home, that much I can say," no sarcasm, just a blunt and almost arrogant claim of a man who seems capable of staying true to his words when someone dying is involved. Elsa could take solace in that despite how bleak the situation is. "And I'm sorry about your ship."

The apologetic words are something Elsa didn't expect to come out of Onyx's mouth. Almost immediately after she heard them, Elsa tried to scrutinize for some kind of humor, something that indicates his usual unwelcome tone, but she finds nothing. He is as strange as they come at times, but unfortunately, the other times he is not being 'strange' in a fascinating way, he is being the abrasive and aggressive person that he seems to be the moment they met. _The sound of his voice scolding her for saving the picture is still reverberating in her mind too_. Deciding that delving into it would spoil Onyx's intention, Elsa keeps on riding; fervently trying to keep any composure she has left. Breaking out in tears will not be the best course of action at the moment.

* * *

The undead is deceivingly fast for one that made a slow and seemingly strenuous charge towards Hans. The moment it reached the proper range for its mace, that's when it started to move like any skilled swordsman would. Barely blocking an attack with his shield, Hans stumble backwards, barely catching his footing, while his opponent pushes forward. Both strength and skill is something that Hans didn't expect from a being made out of bones and barely armored.

"To his defense, Thiera almost mastered her Conjuration magic," Ahna tells Miraak as they both stand a few feet away, observing Hans fight off the skeleton summoned by Thiera.

"Almost," Miraak states in a tone that is still adhering to his usual demeanor, but it's obvious that he is as disgusted with Hans' performance. "Chances are that his _opponent_ will kill him in a blink of an eye."

The two watch as Hans makes an attempt to strike but the skeleton struck first, forcing Hans on the defensive once again. The attack influences Hans to take a few steps to the side due to the impact, but the moment he gains his footing, he charges forward and in an act of aggression, his blade cuts through his opponent's arm, through its body, which causes the skeletal warrior to fall into pieces. The bones scattering on the snowy ground as Hans takes a moment to catch his breath.

"Think you are done for the day?" Thiera summons not just one skeleton, but _another_ one, stripping Hans of his reprieve as the undead is once again on the attack. "You've shown me nothing that impresses me!"

Hans gives the dunmer an angry glare but had to quickly refocus his attention as the undead reengages with as much fury as before, this time it has an ally who is just as aggressive as it. Ahna thought she heard Miraak chuckle as Hans barely avoids an attack, but when she glances at him, the First Dragonborn shows no sign of it. Regardless of what she heard, the arrival of one of Miraak's devoted follower pulls their attention away from the training.

"If you arrived with the Snow Queen, I would not have known how to respond, but this, this I expected. Only one returns," Miraak orders the man to rise from his kneeling position and his follower complies. "Do tell me that their deaths meant that they succeeded at the simpler task."

A quick nod follows as soon as Miraak inquired, which more or less satisfies the First Dragonborn. Though his only reaction is waving the lone survivor away before turning his attention is back to Hans who is still struggling to defeat the animated skeletal warriors.

"What would sending a skeever to fight a Dragon accomplish?"

This time Miraak lets his reaction be known with a proud 'hmph' before turning his back and walks away from the training session. "A wounded pride can do wonders."

Ahna allows Miraak's response to linger before going back to observing Hans. As the former Prince of the Southern Isles awkwardly tries to use the same method he used to defeat one of his assailants a few minutes ago, Ahna can't help but dissect the flaw in his tactic—the result is of course Hans meeting a painful collision from the skeleton's shield, forcing him to hit the ground, prone to the upcoming blow that is going to be delivered. With speed to match the weight of the situation, Ahna shoots the skeleton down, her arrow shooting through the skull with ease, sending it sliding across ground, dismantling the skeleton form altogether. Both Hans and Thiera glance at Ahna's direction, unaware that the woman in Daedric armor would interfere. The Dunmer gives Ahna an angry, but questioning look and received no sort of response as Ahna merely walks away. Hans on the other hand remains on his butt, shocked and amazed at the woman's action.

"Get up you fool," but once again Thiera robs him of rest, "learn how to defeat your enemies before you need rescuing!"

Using his sword to push himself up, Hans reaffirms his grip on both his blade and his shield as Thiera uses her magic to summon his next opponents. This time, he doesn't wait for them to take full form; with his blade in lead, Hans attacks. Every time he succeeds, he gets better. Every time he finds it in him to use the new blade, he feels great power surge inside of him. Hans has many things to gain from this endeavor; best he does it better than Thiera tells him he could.

* * *

The choir was in sync the moment they started. The ceremony began on a good note—then again, how couldn't they have? Everything for this day was made to be perfect. It would be the first time that visitors from other countries were going to see the kingdom—the first time in years that the people of Arendelle would be allowed to visit inside the castle in a nonchalant way. This was the day that she would be named Queen Elsa of Arendelle so it _had _to be perfect. She would also have to be perfect, especially when she would have to stand in front of everyone as they witness her being named Queen; that alone makes her nervous beyond understanding. The monumental task of her holding the globe and scepter shouldn't have been that daunting. It should just be as easy as holding the said items, stand regally in front of visiting dignitaries, royal guests, the entire church, and Anna. The priest would bless her and all would be well—at least that's what she was playing in her mind. Elsa knew she would come of age and the day would happen, so she practiced and repeated how the perfect day in her head would happen. She told herself that nothing would go wrong and that she could do the things that a normal would-be-Queen could do. She would be normal for one day and she would stand where her father stood and she would take on the great power and the greater responsibilities that a Queen would be asked to carry. If she can just get through the blessing without any incident, then the perfect day is hers and she would be the Queen that she was born to be. Straightening herself after receiving the crown, Elsa glances at the golden scepter and orb as they are presented to her. Anxious and full of fright, Elsa reaches for them, hurry to lift them from the pillow and continue on with the ceremony, but the sound of the Priest clearing his throat causes her to flinch.

"Your Majesty," he tells her with a low voice, "the gloves."

Elsa takes a moment to glance at the Priest before looking back at the items as the feeling of dread starts to loom over her. Taking off the gloves would mean that she would have to _make_ that perfect day happen—something she is absolutely sure she can't do because of this forsaken _curse_ that she was born with.

_"You're the Queen," _a voice; her own voice inside of her mind speaks up, _"You don't have to take off the gloves."_

Despite the voice, Elsa's trembling hands makes its way to doing exactly what she doesn't want to do. The process is slow and anyone who is paying close attention to her can tell that this is more than just a meager task.

_"You fool! You're the Queen! You RULE these simpletons! Do you **honestly** believe that you have to comply with his request?!" _

With one glove off, Elsa proceeds to taking out her right one, both hands still shaking nervously, both omitting enough cold energy that she's sure that she would fail at this endeavor.

_"Stupid, stupid, stupid little girl," _the voice keeps on taunting, unrelenting, and with a tone so degrading that Elsa can barely focus, _"reach for that, and I swear to you that you won't like the result_._"_

Ignoring the voice is easier said than done, especially when the moment is upon Elsa; it's time to proceed with the ceremony. Taking a deep breath, Elsa grabs the scepter and the orb and slowly turns around to face the people who came to witness her coronation, putting on as much of a 'confident' look as she can despite the butterflies in her stomach.

"As she holds the holy properties…"

_"Queen of light, they say," _the voice taunts again. "_Holy, the old fool says."_

The voice and the priest speaking at the same time sounds wrong, and Elsa wants nothing more than to listen to the prayer. She has to focus at the moment. Everyone standing up is further proof of her need to remain as calm as she can. It's only a few more seconds.

"… crowned in this holy place…"

_"Holy."_

Only a few more seconds, but a few seconds too much. Glancing at the items, Elsa gasp inwardly as she notices her powers starting to take form—starting to disobey her mental command of staying concealed.

_"The only thing holy in this place, is **you** and your gift, Elsa." _

The globe is now halfway frozen as well as the scepter. She won't make it. She _has_ to put the items back on the pillow so that her secret would remain as it is: a secret.

_"Don't put it down."_

"…I present to you…"

Elsa's fingers twitches—the frost is building. It's getting colder.

_"Don't put it down."_

"…Queen Elsa…"

She has to put it down.

_"Don't. PUT. IT. **DOWN**!"_

"….of Arendelle."

The voice made her hesitate and the moment of reluctance is all that is needed for her powers to emerge from her. With both the scepter and the globe now fully covered in ice, Elsa drops them, gasping in fright and taking a few steps back as she can see and hear the frightened reaction of the people around her. The result of her dropping the items are catastrophic; the ground froze the moment of impact and the affect pervades across the chapel. Like vines wrapping about pillars and structures, her magic starts to cover everything, people, furniture, walls—nothing to no one is spared from the magic she was unable to keep hidden. Screams of both fear and pain echo until the cold blanket silences them as their life is smothered in the cold embrace. Stumbling back from horror she had created, Elsa finds herself bumping into a cold 'wall' but the moment she turns around, she realizes that priest, also frozen in death is what she backed into—the fear in his eyes still prominent despite the ice covering his fragile form.

"E-Elsa…" then the familiar voice of Anna sends Elsa's mind into an uproar. Slowly, she turns to face where her sister once stood. "… What… have y-you done?"

Of all the things she has seen within the last few seconds of people covered in her curse, none would be more mortifying than the sight of her sister clutching on to the spear like ice that had impaled her to the wall.

"Anna..?!"

Elsa calls to her sister as Anna tries to hold on to the life that is fading away with every second. Running to her side, Elsa tries her best to see what she can do in order to save her sister, though it's quite obvious that she can do more damage than good.

"What… have you done..?"

With blood coming out of her mouth as she said those words, Anna lifelessly slumps into the ice; eyes still wide open, staring at Elsa with disbelief. The powers that Anna once enjoyed and admired, the one that was stripped from her memories to keep her safe is now the one that took her life. Unable to truly react to the onslaught, Elsa staggers backwards; emotions so strong that only tears would suffice as a reaction.

"What have I _done_?"

Elsa's answer is the oddly placed sound of clapping hands and turning to face the origin of the sound, she is greeted by a familiar face: her own.

_"I told you," _a stoic but shrewd expression concurs with the words that leaves her look-alike's lips, _"don't drop them. See what you did."_

"Don't be the monster they fear you are," another voice joins and looking amongst the frozen massacre, Elsa recognizes the man in elegant attire with fiery red hair—Hans. "Be the Queen that you were meant to be. You have great power; use it to be the person you truly are."

The monster they fear she is…

Great power… the person who she truly is…

Words that resound so ominously inside Elsa; words that seems to coincide with some of the feelings that had been haunting her during the years of trying to learn how to control her powers—all coming from a person who she knows is far less trustworthy.

"No," Elsa backs away, trying fervently to gain some space between her, the massacre, Hans, and her doppelganger. "No! This isn't happening…!"

_"Going to run away again, Elsa?" _

"Stay back!"

_"You can't run away from your destiny. You'll eventually have to let me out."_

As the doppelganger speaks, Hans takes a step closer—in his hand is the amulet.

"You and I are meant to do great things, my Queen," Hans tells Elsa once again with a calm and almost soothing tone of voice. "We have a destiny that can change this world."

"NO!"

The shadows start to form once again; makeshift hands reach out towards Elsa as if Hans and her doppelganger are causing it. Enraged, mortified, and full of angst, Elsa's power erupts and soon a wave of ice spreads from where she stands. The darkness disappears as does the doppelganger and Hans due to the force of her magic, but the laughter of her look-alike remains, taunting her, reminding her that her presence is still about.

"Stop!" Elsa tries to yell through the laughter that piercing her mind. "Stop laughing! STOP IT!" once again Elsa's powers emerge, her fists omitting small snowstorms and screaming from the top of her lungs, Elsa lets loose the energy she had accumulated, aiming her hands in all direction, projecting her powers in the form of ice blasts, hoping that somehow she would be able to stop the laughter. "STOP IT!"

Screaming the last words from the top of her lungs, Elsa's voice finally punctures through the taunting laughter. Though the moment of reprieve is short lived as Elsa suddenly feels the ground beneath her start to lose solid form and one glance downwards, she gasps at the sight of her body starting to submerge, as if she is standing on quicksand. Her natural instinct to try and pull herself out only enhances the speed of her sinking—waist, to her chest, reaching out to something or to someone, to _nothing_.

Elsa's decision to scream is a little too late and would have been in vain. The darkness has completely devoured her, seeping into every crevice of her, muffling sound, robbing her of sight, taking away her freedom at every given second….

* * *

Finally Elsa hears her voice piercing through the blackness and soon she feels that her body is also reacting to her thoughts. Opening her eyes, Elsa finds herself sitting up, chest heaving up and down due to the shock of the nightmare that was consuming her. It takes a bit for Elsa to recover, but when she finally does, she is once again reintroduced to the room on the third floor of Onyx's house; out of all the rooms, this one was the one Jordis seemed to have found adequate for her—or perhaps it was the one that Onyx told the Housecarl to let Elsa sleep in. At first, Elsa found herself quite taken back with the room—simply because it is in no shortage of mimicking the décor of Onyx's other house. Glowing weapons displayed on racks, letting off some strange aura that Elsa has yet gotten accustomed to. Despite him having much more of a frugal means of living (compared to a Queen), Elsa is more than able to surmise that Onyx is more than well off due to the abundance of furniture in decorating every room, the amount of treasure chests lying around, and access some of the most unique items. Warrior spoils, or perhaps he has spent more than enough time killing the right people to be paid the right amount, Elsa can only cringe at just how much of Onyx's wealth is earned by bloodshed.

"At least the bed is comfortable," Elsa unconsciously says out loud. Sighing, Elsa pushes the green blanket off her body, and slowly gets to her feet, trying her best to shake off the thoughts of the horrifying images. The demanding nightmare seemed to have not only worked her emotions in disarray but also strained her physically—the thin layer of perspiration on her skin is a testament of that. Though the cool air is something she can take solace in since Skyrim is definitely a land adhering to the nature of her powers. Unlike Heljarchen Hall, Onyx doesn't seem to have any fire going in Proudspire Manor, so this place is even colder, which means even more comforting to someone nicknamed: '_snow queen_'.

"It's been a while since I've actually _used_ that bed," though the feeling of comfort is immediately taken away the moment Elsa heard his voice, "I'm glad it suited your need."

"Onyx!" still a bit taken back by his sudden appearance, Elsa grabs her dress from the chair that it was hanging on and tries to cover her body. "The door was closed for a reason!"

"The reason being?"

It's one of those moments that Elsa has to consider if Onyx is once again being sarcastic, or perhaps things are even more different here in Skyrim that someone's modesty isn't that grand of an issue. Senna's act of stripping her earlier might be proof of that, but still—Onyx is Onyx, and there he is standing quite awkwardly in front of the door, looking straight at her, not giving an ounce of consideration that she is only wearing her lingerie. He isn't exactly nursing her to health; nor is he female like Senna so the comfort level, whether it be a different standard in Skyrim still does not apply to Elsa.

"The reason being is that I'm not fully clothed!" she yells at him. "Oh, and doors are closed for the reason of privacy! Thus why you _knock_ to see if the person on the other side is willing to let you in."

Though in Elsa's mind, Onyx's persistence in regards to closed doors is probably _much_ different than Anna's; he probably will just barge just to get his way. "This is my room you know," her thought was just proven correct with his reply; "I can't remember the last time I had to knock to get inside my own room."

"You are lending me your room, in case you have forgotten! If you were just going to nonchalantly barge in despite someone inside, then perhaps you should have considered another room!"

Her voice had reached the level where her anger is starting to echo and Elsa must now be aware of when her powers might seep out of her. As it is, the ground is starting to freeze due to her feet making contact. Trying to calm herself, Elsa closes her eyes, expecting when she opens them that Onyx would have tried to comply with some of her needs and have left. Of course consideration is something he lacks and to her dismay, he is still standing there, staring at him with those hollow eyes. Tightening her grip on her dress, Elsa prepares to scold him once more.

"I didn't have the need to barge in here, but your words that you were yelling in your sleep somehow obligated me to check and see what was going on," he pauses while Elsa takes in his words. "But you seem to be fine. I suppose there was no need for me to check."

The look on Elsa's face must indeed replicate the confusion and embarrassment she feels inside. Confusion for the fact that Onyx chose to use such verbiage instead of simply telling her that he didn't bother knocking because he thought she was in trouble. Embarrassed because of the tone she decided to use and how obvious that she is indeed infuriated; she has the right, but somehow it doesn't seem as justified this time.

"Get dressed and head downstairs," breaking the silence, Onyx starts to make his way out of the room, "there is fresh food made. Jorids had also prepared Frost. We will be on our way out soon."

Watching him close the door behind him, there are a myriad of things Elsa wanted to say but couldn't find the right words to form. As she stands there staring at the closed door, she finally decides that dwelling on what she could have said is now a waste of time. The moment of replying is lost so the best decision in her mind is to comply with Onyx's words. Though part of her wonders why there is a need to travel to his other home when Solitude seems to be the place to stay to get _some_ information. After all, Heljarchen Hall isn't exactly close to civilization—something that bothers Elsa somewhat. These are some things best brought up with him and not with ponder on it. Best she gets dressed as soon as possible and not be addled with things that she can't control at the moment. Sitting down on the chair, Elsa starts the process of sliding on her stockings, but no sooner than she started, something catches her attention on the bookshelf to her left: a doll of some sort, a wooden figure, obviously carved and colored to resemble none other than Onyx. Or at least Elsa thinks it's Onyx. Slowly grabbing it and examining closely, Elsa is certain that it is a figurine dedicated to none other than her strange and often rude companion. Intricately detailed and crafted with the best intention, Elsa can't help but feel that whoever made this had a lot of 'heart' put into it; even the red 'scar' going down his left eye is accurately portrayed. Every fine detail crafted into something no bigger than the palm of her hand can only be considered to either be a gift for honorable praise or from one who absolutely adores him and has the skill (or money) to present such a thing. One could wonder _who_ could adore him as much?

As Elsa was about to set the figure down she notices that it was on top of a book—a book with a very intriguing, and yet oddly familiar emblem. Placing the figurine to the side, Elsa takes the book with both hands and blows the dust off. Thick in content, thus making it heavy. Placing it on her lap, Elsa is able to entertain her fascination with the symbol embossed on the black cover. With what seems to be sharp triangular 'wings', zigzagging tail, and a swirling neck with a head at the end, it's very easy for Elsa to surmise that the symbol is a dragon; a creature that seems to be a norm in this strange new world. Opening the book, Elsa is introduced to sketches, writings, and notes that are scattered within the first few pages. Obviously none makes sense to her because of the unfamiliar writing and information. Though she can easily make sense of the sketches—dragon anatomies, scribbles of possibly weaknesses, and other things that are most likely used for battle tactics. Turning to a few more pages, passing more sketches and notes, Elsa finally comes across a folded piece of paper; one that has obviously spent a lot of time folded the way it is and flattened by the weight of the book. When finally unfolded, the note contains a few words that are clearly written by a child; the penmanship proves that. Intrigued, Elsa reads the note:

_'Our hero, our hero claims a warrior's heart. I tell you, I tell you the Dragonborn comes. With a voice wielding power of the ancient Nord art. Believe, believe, my Dragonborn comes.'_

The Dragonborn… Onyx. Is it a poem written by a child in honor of the Dragonborn? To Elsa, it's more than plausible. It may be hard to see it at times, but Elsa can't help but wonder about that 'nurturing' side of Onyx; the one that she saw back in the cave. Random acts of kindness for children is something Elsa can see in him but this note… especially with the ending note that states:

_'Thank you for visiting! _

_See you soon,_

_Anjiri'_

That closure on the note and the phrase: '**My** Dragonborn comes' surely is quite thought provoking. Elsa stares at the note, dumbfounded at the idea that Onyx, a man who uses his great power without remorse, without fear of consequences, and a man who seems to walk the path of one who detest compassion, seems to have a soft spot for children. It's a strange thought, and an even stranger one is what could possibly drive him to be so adamant at helping Elsa out even if it is clearly going out of his way to do so?

"Lady Elsa?"

Jordis' voice from the other side of the door immediately causes Elsa to put away the note and the book to their proper places before answering. "Yes?"

"Would you require some help getting ready?"

Of course Elsa barely got around to putting on her dress after getting distracted. "No," she responds as calmly as she can, "the offer is appreciated, however."

"Very well. Whenever you are finished, food is ready for you," no doubt Onyx had his Housecarl reiterate his previous message. Then again, Elsa did take a bit of time with things.

"Thank you, Jordis."

Waiting a few moments until Jordis' presence is no longer at the door, Elsa proceeds in getting herself dressed. Though her thoughts keeps lingering towards the book, thinking about the innocent little note, and the idea behind it. Sighing, Elsa puts the figurine back on top of the book and carries on the business of making herself decent. For a man who scolded her about a sentimental item that endangered her life, he seems to have something of the sort. Part of her is truly tempted to ask him about it, but that would probably mean another confrontational conversation full of sarcasm and friction. Best she leaves it alone and focus on the other issues ahead. Straightening the bodice of her dress, Elsa decides to leave her cloak off for the moment but the picture she saved from the fire will stay with her _no matter what_. Finally ready, Elsa opens the door and inhales the sweet aroma of freshly cooked food. If anything else, at least she can enjoy her meal while possibly dealing with Onyx's rude personality.

**To Be Continued.**


	16. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen VII

I glance to my side observing Elsa as she keeps her eyes on the picture. She has been staring at it off and on for a bit now. Seems like saving it from the fire really was worth it for the simple fact that she and I had avoided more unnecessary conversation. Her eyes are bound to that picture, as if some spell is keeping them from looking at something else.

"If you have some kind of sarcastic comment to say, please abstain from doing so," she speaks and the nature of her words catches me off guard.

"What made you think I was going to say something?"

"You haven't uttered a word since leaving your house. I had a feeling it was time for another nonsensical comment from you."

Hard to refute the idea that I was about to say something. Even going down the steps, she has been staring at that picture. I was afraid she was going to take the wrong step and take a tumble.

"Oh don't mind me, your Majesty. I'm just actually lost in thought in how I am going to solve the riddle of getting you home. There are so many pieces of the puzzle to put together."

I'm not entirely lying since it has been in the forefront of my mind. Getting Elsa home is going to be more than just finding directions on how to get to Arendelle, provide a ship, and then give her salutations so that she may be on her merry way. The mysterious forces involved seems to want to make this as convoluted as trying to figure out what goes on in Cicero's mind.

"I'm glad you find my dilemma entertaining," and there goes her Queen-like attitude, "though you'll have to pardon me if I lack the same humor as you, Onyx."

"Entertaining, you say? Hardly. Though I will suggest that you focus on the travel ahead of us."

Elsa caught what I was implying and she responds accordingly. "If you are going to give more criticisms about me saving this picture, please don't. Sentiments should hardly be a foreign thing to you."

She takes a few moments staring at me—that expression on her face is implying something, as if she knows something about what I truly hold sentimental or not. I give it no more thought after those said moments and I elaborate on my point about her and her _memento_.

"The road back to Heljarchen Hall is going to be long, as you are aware. We need to be aware of the situation."

"Thank you for pointing that out. I'm glad you have so much consideration to my well being."

"You are welcome," sarcasm feeds on sarcasm, "so please put your memento away and let us focus," it becomes apparent that her clothing doesn't entirely entertain the idea of storage. She carries no pouches or any of that sort—her expression alone states what I'm thinking. "Fine, hand it to me," I tell her, my eyes rolling in the process.

"Pardon me?"

"Safe keeping until we get you back to Arendelle. Unless you plan on being efficient with sentiments while fighting off wisps and wolves."

I could further mock her appalled look, but I don't. I merely extend my hand, awaiting for her to hand me the picture. She glances at my hand before looking at the picture, until finally, she stares at my face again.

"Please do not burn it or bathe it in bloodshed," a statement paired with seriousness and humor, "it's the only thing I have at the moment that would keep my sanity alive."

Sanity alive? As she places the picture in my hand, I ponder at those two words. Looking at the picture, staring at the peaceful aura that surrounds Elsa and the people who she deems as family, I get the sense that she is speaking more truth than metaphor.

"Memories aren't enough, Snow Queen?" I fold the picture carefully and ease it to one of my pouches; I thought about putting it in Abyss, but there are too many dangerous things lurking in Nocturnal's pouch.

"Memories?"

"You shouldn't need pictures or any tangible things to remind you of what you hold dear. They should always be inside of you."

She pauses for a moment, face conveying her confusion for what I just said. Honestly, I'm just as baffled as she is that I actually gave her that advice. I try to hold on to that statement and stay true to it. My life is volatile, so is the time and place I live in. Having sentiments causes too much strain. I can't have them… though often I'm not that successful. Luckily, I can always bury things as easily as I get attached to them.

"That was probably the most considerate thing you have ever told me in our short time knowing each other," she tells me with a voice that is harsh and yet also leaning on the idea that they were words of gratitude. I give her a nod as if to gesture that 'she's welcome' before focusing on the matters ahead.

Speaking of what is ahead, I catch a sight of Jordis holding Frost's reigns by the gate; she isn't alone. I expected to see the Swordmaiden's diligent self to bid Elsa and I farewell but what catches me off guard is to see Elisif waiting by her. Passing by the Winking Skeever, I take note of the heavily armed guards by the bar—the High Queen's personal guards who are sworn to protect her outside the castle walls, no doubt. I can guarantee that they are the 'obvious guards'; the well-hidden ones are scattered all over, concealed and ready to defend their Queen if the occasion arise. Elisif must have something important to say with this much charade.

"Falk must be preparing your sleep attire if he isn't here," I greet the High Queen, stopping a few feet away from her. "And you'll have to forgive me if I dare say that it is pass your bed time," Elisif tries to hide her emotions while Elsa buries her hand in her face before shaking her head. I merely chuckle of course, finding humor in my own words. "In all seriousness, we are in a rush. I'm sure you understand that."

"I do, however I want to gain some confidence in this matter."

Now that is a strange thing for Elisif to say. In all my years of dealing with her, confidence is something that she lacks for someone in her position. She of course grew into her role, but not nearly as much as she should have. Balgruuf would be more suited for the seat. I would even ponder at the notion that Brina is more than adequate for High Queen… even if that woman doesn't exactly exude 'High Royalty' qualifications. Still, she's more stable than Elisif.

"Our conversation from earlier didn't settle your mind?"

"The idea of Miraak's followers being active doesn't settle the minds of my court, Dragonborn."

The moment I brought that up to Elisif, her whole entire entourage gasped, gossiped, and did whatever useless rich folks do when danger is presented at their feet. Honestly, I wish there was a way that I could have evaded informing Elisif about Elsa's ship being destroyed, but alas, I could not. Even I had to somewhat adhere to some social rules; being the Thane of Solitude has its downsides for sure—actually, it had caused me more headaches than solace. Elisif openly vocalizing Miraak's name are of those headache-inducing things.

"Nothing settle your minds, High Queen," I gesture Jordis to offer the reigns of Frost to Elsa, and she does so as I continue to speak to Elisif, "even if I serve Mephala and Vaermina's head on a silver platter, you and _all_ of Tamriel will still knock on my door with other requests," perhaps the name of the First Dragonborn coming out of Elisif's mouth gave me an incentive to be a bit harsher, or maybe I'm just so used to being the way I am with her that it just naturally comes out. Regardless, Elsa clears her throat, which more than signifies that I should stop. "But take solace in the idea that whatever the zealots are up to, it won't get far. I _won't_ let it get far. Even if I have to go to Solstheim again."

I try to sound as confident as I can as I utter the name of that accursed place. I'm not sure just how much details this part of Skyrim knows of my endeavors but I try to make it sound that I don't have any qualms dealing with things there if it involves me personally. Truth to be told, I abhor that place. I could care less if I am half dunmer; not a portion of me is ecstatic to know that such a foul smelling place exists.

"If there is one thing I have learned about you, Dragonborn, is that you are a man of your words," those were words from Elisif as a woman, not as a High Queen being dictated to say what she has to say; with that kind of statement, I give her my full attention as she continues speaking. "I know you will take care of it, so perhaps I _shall_ take solace in that statement."

"Then what is it that you seek confidence in?"

"I was hoping you would stay here in Solitude for a while, at least until we can gather some information."

Making me Thane of Solitude has more advantages for Elisif and her court than for me; it's the downside I spoke of. Having me at 'arms' range' definitely allowed them to take advantage of my service more than once and I allowed it for a time. My pride of my powers definitely allowed them to bombard me with requests with slaying this, retrieving that, saving her—or what not. These days, I often do not stay at Solitude or any other houses I own for too long; Heljarchen Hall would be the closest thing I have to actually calling a 'house' since it is there I usually find myself staying longer than a day or two. Solitude does not have the advantage of peace and I'm more than inclined to believe that Elisif is aware of what I would say to her request. Deciding not to form the words, I turn my back on her and walk towards the gate.

"Onyx!"

I even ignore Elsa as she calls out to me—clearly she stands by Elisif's suggestion. I'm not at all surprised. Tapping into Soul Cairin, I summon Arvak and quickly jump on his back.

"Whenever you are ready," I simply state as I direct Arvak to take his first steps outside the gates. Though Elsa following right after is surely not the case. Instead she and Elisif engage in a conversation that I bother not to eavesdrop on. Rolling my eyes as I look to the skies, the twin moons are potently visible, adding more décor to the void above as they shine brightly like the countless of holes in the sky. This moment I start to ponder the idea of the other world that Elsa comes from… her Kingdom—her Arendelle… from another world? It shouldn't be that hard to grasp considering the things that I have seen, fought, and allied myself with. _It shouldn't be that complex of an idea_. Honestly, I'm not overwhelmed with her presence, though that alone is something that could ruin one's mind—what I have my thoughts on are the mediators behind this whole thing. The idea of Miraak's followers playing a hand in this, the words of the Snow Queen's presence and what that means to me, and that vision I saw are of course something that should occupy my mind. After all, shouldn't one be burdened by warnings of his demise? Then a sound breaks me away from my thoughts and urges me to turn towards the origin.

"Beautiful!" with a glee in her voice, Elisif cheers as the skies above Solitude lights up in a blue glow. Soon, those who are on the streets follow her reaction, and they all gawk and gasp as the skies lit up.

I didn't bother to guess in my head since I already knew: Elsa is giving Elisif an exhibition of her powers and the result is a display of frost decorating the sky, floating like silk being manipulated by the winds. I watch as every time Elsa omits a wave of snow from her hand, the pattern is different, but the result is the same: a wave of radiance that gives of a spectacle that seems to enamor people who have seen dragons and gods constantly walk this very plane. Though the one thing different about this is that most, if not all of Skyrim have seen frost used in destructive ways. If one can call frost magic beautiful, it usually is because the said person is either not part of the reason magicka is being used, or they are the person conjuring the spell. Painful and mortifying things come out of frost magic but Elsa's usage of the element is different. The way she waves her arms and causes harmless blue scintillations in the sky, the jubilance in her face every time she lets loose her powers… this was not the school of destruction; _she_ is different. Her magic is for both destruction and beauty. For a few moments, I find myself enjoying it, inwardly admiring the beauty of her demonstration. Well, at least for a few minutes the show _was_ beautiful, until she forms the symbol Skyrim associates my existence with. It remains in the sky like some beacon.

"Magnificent!" Elisif still isn't short on being impressed.

"Look at that!"

"Show us more!"

And the people join in, marveling at the sight of the symbol illuminating the kingdom, making anything the light touches glow in an icy blue light. They're all amazed by it, or at least most of them. I can tell some are a bit daunted at the sight of Elsa flailing her arms in graceful patterns and calling forth magic that has never truly been seen. Honestly, the majority of them should be scared… I've seen that same fragile woman restrain a dragon. I remember her eyes glowing in a way that seethes with rage and malicious intent. Hard to say though if she is truly a threat with what I have seen from her… especially when it's apparent that the only joy she gets out of her powers is helping people; the elation in her face as she continues the show makes it a ridiculous idea that she is indeed a factor to my downfall. Nudging Arvak, I decide that I should at least scout the road. I've seen the Imperial symbol too often to consider it beautiful even if it's created by Elsa's magic. Besides, I try to adhere to the idea of haste to make up for Elsa's delay.

Eventually she joins and we make our few hours of trek towards Heljrachen Hall. I decide it's best not to give her a snide comment about her little light show. That smile on her face is a more gratifying look than the one she usually gives me, so it's best to leave it be.

* * *

The journey has been relatively quiet. Taking this route, the snowy terrain seemed fitting for a Snow Queen to travel and not to mention, I hardly ever ran across any bandit related problems this way in the past. Fort Snowhawk might have skeleton archers once in a while, but none this time. Though there was something else that seems troublesome: I drank my last blood potion some time ago and clearly it's time to feed. I spotted a cottage nearby and quickly realized whom it belongs to. Drelas was a known necromancer and his efforts to send assassins my way had made him top on my list to kill; figured this was the best time; that and he does seem to have a fitting shelter for the next few hours. So we engaged accordingly. Not surprisingly, Elsa had little qualms about doing so, but eventually she made her choice to fight—maybe because the moment we stepped foot in a certain vicinity, undead mages started shooting spells our way and not too far from them was Drelas himself. The battle started and in my opinion, ended not too long after. Though despite the outcome, the stories of this necromancer wasn't exaggerated; he knows how to handle his magic and would definitely prove more than troublesome for some unsuspecting adventurer seeking refuge at his innocent looking cottage. Unfortunately for him I'm not exactly oblivious to his means both through my own scrutinizing and from all the mercenaries he had sent my way to kill me; that and the fact that I've faced far more formidable casters in my lifetime. This one was _slightly_ more entertaining the norm.

"All the mercenaries you sent my way insinuated that you wanted to see me," I slowly take a few steps towards him as he tries to comfort his right arm that is covered in blood, "I expected you to show more gratitude for me saving you the septims of hiring more."

As he has done for the last few minutes, Drelas tries to reach for bolt sticking out of his right shoulder, most likely trying to pull it out as if that was really going to help. Of course the moment he touches it, Drelas lets out a groan and he immediately uses his good arm to keep himself from falling on his face. With a small grin forming on the corner of my lips, I put Avarice away. Running to my side, Elsa points her hand at Drelas, worried that he might be able to use his magic again.

"I'm assuming you have taken care of things back there?" I keep my eyes on Drelas as I speak to her.

"Whatever they were, they won't cause any more problems."

"Covered in ice?"

I was more or less insulting Elsa's method with that question and she caught it. "I hope you didn't expect me to do what you do?" _What I do _she says… isn't that an amusing statement?

"Showing mercy on the dead is something I expected out of you." Drelas lets out another sound of pain as his stubborn self tries to attend to the bolt. Best I give him the attention he needs. "If you manage to take that out, I'm sure you comprehend that the poison used to deplete your magicka will last longer than the pain you will feel. I don't mean harm with this statement but I doubt a blade is part of your expertise even with both arms in full health."

He groans again as he glares up at me before his attention wanders towards Elsa. A look of astonishment takes over his face as he absorbs the image of the Snow Queen.

"S-she… what.. is she?"

"One of the Nines decided to meddle in my affairs and send her to me," I cut him off, and of course Elsa isn't a big fan of my statement. Best I ignore her. "But she shouldn't be your concern at the moment. You have wasted a lot of resources and lives to catch my attention just to ignore me now when I'm right here. Besides, I know what you want."

His reaction to my words is priceless. "How do you..?"

"Some of your mercenaries were easily persuaded to give me information on their employer," I let that sink in as I briefly reminisced on the ones that didn't adjust to the way I persuaded people to talk. "Regardless, the Azura's Star, was it?" I could see the hunger in his eyes as I pull the Daedric Soul Gem out of my pouch and flaunt it. "This is what you wanted your mercenaries to take from me, correct?"

Perhaps I should have been a bit harsher with my tone. Drelas seems hypnotized at the sight of Azura's Star. Though it might have taken a few more seconds than I would have liked, the dunmer finally responds with a nod—a hungry and embarrassed nod. From the corner of my eye I notice Elsa eyeing the Daedric artifact as well, not in a hypnotized manner, but more of a curious one.

"It's yours," I toss the artifact to the ground, an arm's range away from Drelas.

"J-Just… like that?" he flinches, fighting the urge to grab Azura's Star, thinking that it might be a ploy.

"Just like that."

He stares at the Soul Gem as it lets out a glow before glancing back at my direction. He reaches for it slowly but when his hand was in full range, he snatches the artifact with speed that ignores his injury. Then like a possessed madman, he presses it close to his chest and lets out a laughter that resembles someone under the influence of skooma. Not willing to see what else he would do with Azura's gift, I turn around and start walking away. Elsa follows me not too long after, the disbelief and confusion still prominent on her face as she speaks.

"Would you be so kind to explain to me what is going on? And… you just let him live?" she looks over her shoulder, making sure that Drelas isn't trying anything. By now, Drelas ran the opposite direction, indulging at the fact that he _finally _has Azura's Star in his hand. Though Elsa still doesn't quite understand that the crazed necromancer is pretty helpless at the moment with his magicka poisoned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, are you now condoning my murderous ways?"

"Heavens, no!" pulling her cloak as it gets caught on a rock, Elsa stumbles to catch up with me. "I just don't understand why the sudden change. You mentioned he paid people to kill you. I'd imagine you'd have killed someone for less."

"Yes."

"He wanted that strange crystal."

"Yes."

"And you just handed it to him?"

I stop walking altogether as I observe the result of Elsa's magic. The land around Drelas' cottage is covered with frozen pillars; obviously within the ice are the undead that Drelas summoned to aid him in battle. Most likely they have disintegrated within their icy prison, and the only thing that would be left of them are the armors that they wore and the weapons that they carried.

"A Daedric Artifact comes with a price," I tell her as I walk towards the cottage, "besides, he was kind enough to leave his cottage behind for us to use."

"Excuse me? We're going to use _his_ cottage?"

I chuckle. "Either that, or we take a chance at a cave. Most likely all of them are occupied and I'd rather not spend the time cleansing every corner so that you can find comfort for a few hours."

Walking over the spikes of ice that are protruding from the ground, I make my way to push the door open and prepare myself in case there is something inside that didn't have an aura. Elsa prepares herself, but our preparation seems unnecessary since a surprising scene of a peaceful indoor setting greets us.

"Do you see what I mean?" I walk in; my first step still cautious in case Drelas really knew how to set an expert rune spell. "Most likely it will not fit the grand space a palace would, but it definitely has more of a jovial atmosphere than the hostile outdoors."

The first thing Elsa sets her eyes on is the two pots under the fire—obviously the necromancer was expecting a peaceful night, thus why he was cooking something. I would fathom that the contents inside the pots are now over cooked since no one was attending it. Taking note of the Enchanter table, I make my way up the stairs to the lone bedroom on the second floor to make sure that there are no surprises. At least nothing that could cause harm from my standpoint. A few black soul gems inside the drawers by his bed might prove useful, so I pocket them before heading back downstairs. Elsa is now by the Arcane Enchanter, intrigued and frightened at what the glowing furniture could be used for.

"With the exception of this table with the frightening skull on it, I wouldn't have guessed that a man like him lived here."

I had the urge to laugh at Elsa's statement. I have yet to get bored of her ignorance on what goes on in Skyrim. I doubt I'll tell her what the black soul gems on the Arcane table are for, nor will I mention that some of the ingredients lying on the Alchemy table are actually remnants of some of Skyrim's native beasts. I can almost imagine what her reaction would be to finding out that alchemist like Senna and Drelas often grind a giant's toe for the purpose of certain potions.

"I'm not exactly sure what kind of place you would picture Drelas living in."

"The black robe, the hideously frightening markings on his face, and the magic that he possesses," as if in deep thought, Elsa looks down before looking back at me, "I might picture him as someone who would live in a tower."

"A tower?" I raise a brow at her speculation.

"A dark, mangled, dreary tower," there's a bit of humor in her tone, but I can tell she is very serious as she speaks, "with tiny demons with spears and axes."

With the addition of the 'demons with spears and axes', I'm almost impressed with her imagination. Almost—I'm more or less baffled. "You'll have to forgive the lack of flare. Imps are hardly summoned in Skyrim. If you want to see one of those, I'd have to take you to Cyrodiil."

Of course some of what I just said are lost on Elsa, obvious by that bewildered look on her face. Shaking her head, she responds accordingly. "No thank you. This is more than adequate."

"Good to hear. By saying that, I'm sure you can make yourself at home then."

As I start heading towards the door, Elsa protests, stopping me from taking another step. "I hope you don't mean to leave me here!"

"Help yourself with the stew Drelas was cooking. Smells like beef stew. I also spot some Spiced Wine, Argonian Bloodwine, and I believe that there is some Black Briar Mead in his collection as well. Please, dine in," I open the door and get half of myself out before I remember something else. "I'll set some runes outsides. If you hear explosions that means someone other than me is approaching. Otherwise, I'll return shortly without you being aware."

Elsa wanted to say something else—she wanted to express all the things that are consuming her mind but I don't give her the chance. I simply shut the door behind me and pull out some scrolls and apply the runes all around the cottage as I told her I would. It won't completely deter a skilled assassin trying to break in, but I am playing on a gambit that the time I am going to take will not be sufficient for that situation. Taking a deep breath, I push off and run as fast as I need to. I have one thing in mind:

_Blood_.

Drelas spilled a lot and left a trail. He ran recklessly towards the direction of Hamvir's Rest and I quickly find out why. The dunmer frantically searches through a treasure chest; most likely for something to help him ease the pain and possibly cure the poison inflicted on him. The fool. He doesn't realize that in his frantic efforts he fails to realize what is coming. As I get closer, I slide the masque off my face and carelessly drop it behind me, letting its weight hit the ground, causing Drelas to flinch and turn around to face me.

"You! What do you want now?"

_Blood_.

I take step towards him and as I do, I can hear his heartbeat… his fast and irregular beat. As I take another step, he makes an effort to move away, but of course with his back against the walls, he doesn't go very far.

"… What… what is it… that you want, Dragonborn?"

"Something that you have," I answer tersely.

"You… realized that it was a mistake… to hand me Azura's gift?" with a trembling hand, Drelas tosses the artifact at my feet, hoping that it truly was what I wanted. "… t-take it!"

I don't even bother to glance at the Soul Gem, instead I step over it, which makes Drelas' fear ascend to new levels. "Daedric Artifacts come with a price, Drelas," I curl my lips to convey my fangs, which of course more than implies what I need from him. I think he is starting to understand. "And not only do the Princes require a price, but I do as well for tampering with my business for the past few months."

"You're a…" he understands now, "… please! Spare me! I-I know contacts… to Clan Volkihar! They can truly … give you _real_ vampiric powers!"

I could laugh, but I don't. "The Lord of Volkihar Castle was slain by me."

I let a second or two sit before I decide to do what I hunted this poor necromancer for. Without giving him a chance to even blink, I rush at him, plunging my fangs on the side of his neck. Immediately his blood floods my mouth and the flavor with it. He screams but only for a moment and I follow his limp body all the way down to the ground, drinking every drop that I can—enjoying the feeling of having warm, fresh, and enticing blood sate my thirst. It's been some time since I've actually allowed myself to feed in a more 'natural' way, and doing so again excites the side of this power that I try not to set free. I can feel the power trying to burst out… the wings trying to sprout from my back… my senses starting to become more feral… using every bit of control and willpower, I restrain it. Pulling myself away from the fresh kill, I stagger for a few steps before I land on all fours. Blood cascades from my mouth and into the ground as I remain where I am for a few moments, trying fervently to gather my bearings. Though I quickly push myself up as I hear a dragon roar pierce the skies. My hand reaching for Muramasa, ready to unsheathe the crimson blade if need be. Though if the occasion were hostile, I would have had to use Avarice since the dragon is still high above. As it flies by, I get a _strange_ feeling; one that can be described as… _familiar. _Though I suppose dragons that are of that caliber, revered by many, and even evokes caution out of me, peculiar feelings shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Easing my hand off the hilt of my blade, I grab both Azura Star and the Masque, ignoring the ominous whispers from both items as I put them on their proper place. With that, I make my way back, trying my best to not mind the dragon that lets out another screech from a distance.

As I walk up to the cottage, I discharge the runes before stepping inside, having it in my mind that Elsa is taking the time to rejuvenate from exertion of the skirmish with Drelas and his undead guards. Of course the sight of her sitting down with a book in her hand is what greets me; her head barely turns to acknowledge me, which is rather odd.

"Reading a bed time story for yourself?"

"This is an interesting book," her tone is cold and straight, almost the same as her 'Queen' tone she used back at Solitude. "I couldn't sleep with the thought of being alone in this cottage that used to belong to what I assume is a sorcerer who is guided by one of the Daedras. If I was to guess Vaernima?" I tilt my head, studying the book in her hand and it makes sense as to why she would have such assumption. Of course she is wrong since the Daedric Prince of nightmares isn't necessarily the reason for the powers of Necromancy, but I do understand where she is coming from. "And here's another interesting fact," she flips the pages back and with her index finger on the page, she reads, "_Boethiah, whose sphere is deceit and conspiracy, and the secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and unlawful overthrow of authority._"

I do believe I understand where she is going with this. Crossing my arms, I stare at her, waiting for my turn to speak since she doesn't seem to be done yet.

"Here's another one that … daunts me: _Molag Bal whose sphere is the domination and enslavement of mortals; whose desire is to harvest the soul of mortals and to bring mortals souls within his sway by spreading seeds of strife and discord in the mortal realms_."

Elsa stares at the book for a moment before closing it and dropping it on the table in an uncaring manner that causes a few of the items that was on the table to fall on the ground. I also take note of her powers starting to react to the myriad of emotions that are fuming within her. Judging from how much she seemed to familiarize herself with the book, she seemed to have rapt herself within the contents of it. Her eyes are burning at my direction, glowing ominously. It seems that she is waiting for me to speak.

"I'm glad you took the initiative to get acquainted with Tamriel," I tell her with a casual tone. "However you don't need to spend the time to memorize the Daedric Princes. You won't be staying here long enough to get yourself tangled with their ways."

"You swear by them, Onyx! At least two of them! Two of the most vile Princes according to this book!"

I shrug. "Actually Clavicus _Vile_ is the one that gave me the helmet I wear. Boethiah gave me my cuirass and Molag Bal… he supports somebody that I used to know, while a good friend of mine carries the Daedra's weapon."

She seems appalled at my words and pauses for a moment before speaking. "And you take this so lightly when clearly you have no qualms with what these… demons stand for?!"

Demons, that's an amusing word. "If you're worried I'm going to stab you when you're not looking, or dominate your soul so I can rape it, then you wouldn't have lived this long."

"Am I supposed to take solace in the idea that the _only_ person that seems to have the most competence to bring me home gives praise to entities that are known for murder and betrayals?"

It's more than obvious that she won't take kindly to the idea that I am a vampire—if she even knows what a vampire is. When or if she finds out that Drelas' fate was to sate my undying thirst, I would surmise that there would be more friction between our moral understandings. Regardless, she only has one option that seems to cherish her sanity more…

"You have very little options right now, Snow Queen."

"And that is supposed to allow me to bat my eyes at your presence, knight of Boethiah?" that statement is more than enough to start tampering with my patience, but I find myself amused. Must be the way she puts things into words.

"I'm riding to Helrachen Hall in an hour or so. You can stay here and form your opinion through books or you can keep following me. That choice is yours," I stand there for a few moments staring her down before turning my back and head outside once more. I'd rather not be inside with her fuming at the idea of my allegiances or what not.

"Fetch me when you are ready."

As Elsa said those words, I can't help but smirk. She just confirmed what I knew she was going to say. What other choices does she have? Whether she likes to believe it or not, I'm her only option. I'm the only one who truly wants to get her back home.

**To Be Continued.**


	17. Elsa: The Footsteps of a Stranger

An amalgam of awe and fear still lingers within Hans even long after Miraak and the others left. It wasn't everyday that the Prince of the Southern Isles witnesses anyone take flight on the back of dragons. What's even more astonishing is watching three dragons take off in a matter of moments. He barely kept himself standing from the force of their wings and the simple fact that they are a rather daunting sight even if they have 'no will of their own' (as both Miraak and Ahna stated).

"That dragon that Miraak rode," while still staring at the sky, Hans speaks to Ahna, "it looks different than the other two."

"The people of Skyrim named it the Revered Dragon. And they named it properly because it is as regal as the name implies. One of the strongest breed of dragons to roam the open sky."

If Hans needed any more evidence of Miraak's status, the fact that he controls a dragon of that caliber would be enough. Feeling smaller than everyone else doesn't suit Hans, but his decision to follow this path has made him feel far more capable than he ever did before. Rigorous training and stone cold treatment from _abnormal _allies can do wonders to someone even if at times degrading. But Hans' quest for power overcomes most things he had experienced; though the bruises, the bleeding, and the fatigue are gallingly weighing down on him. As his 'trainers' constantly reminded him: he has a long way to go to accomplish his purpose—whatever the said purpose may be.

"Where is he going?" Hans inquires, trying to get some details on what is going on. So far he's just given a step but never warned about what's beyond. As a man who is known for his guiles and schemes, Hans isn't a big fan of not knowing where he is going next.

"Following the Lord's will. He will retrieve the things that are rightfully his and make his mark."

The response was a little too vague and very terse for Hans' liking. Clicking his tongue, he makes his qualms known. "Stop with the riddles! I know you are planning something that involves me!"

Ahna hardly acknowledged Hans' for a few moments. She stands there motionless, giving Hans little to no kind of reaction, which of course infuriates him further. The response she eventually gives does very little to abate his anger.

"You need rest," she merely tells Hans as she starts walking away from him, "the injuries you received from training could be detrimental if you do not treat it with care."

"Training for what, exactly?"

"To protect yourself. I won't always be there to _save_ you."

The words were blunt and it serves to infuriate Hans of course, but the mystery of everything else bothers him far more than being labeled weak and helpless. Pushing his anger aside to the best of his ability, Hans walks after Ahna, which of course the aggressive way he saunters after her evokes a reaction out of the woman.

"Whoa! Take it easy!" with Ahna pointing an arrow to his head, Hans has every reason to stop his idea of getting closer. He keeps his hands open at head level, trying fervently to convey that he means her no harm.

"I may have the duty to protect you, but do not think for one moment that I do not have it in me to shoot you where you stand if you try something foolish."

Duty. Protect. Words that are both reassuring and also demeaning for Hans—but despite all that, Hans desperately still wants to know what is brewing behind the scenes. A conniving person such as he would know better than to trust the words of people like Miraak and subordinates like Ahna. Though Hans is also smart enough to know that crossing the line would have unpleasant ramifications—ones that he isn't willing to gamble his life with. Nodding his head, Hans takes a few steps back with his open hands still showing his pacifism.

"I hope you're aware that I know you're hiding something," he tells Ahna with a softer tone as she retracts her weapon. The woman keeps her gaze at Hans before turning her back on him once more and continues walking up the steps.

"Miraak will return with news. Good, bad, informative, or perhaps more 'riddles', I cannot say. But be prepared. What you will have do will require more skill than deceiving a naïve princess."

With those words, Ahna makes her way pass the stone structures, and with a momentary pause, she steps inside the storm, vanishing within. Hans watched the cloaked man step inside earlier and now Ahna—the prince can't be anymore curious as to what is behind the raging storm, but then again, he truly is feeling the burden of his grueling training the last few hours. With the unholy powers his new allies possess, he can only surmise that defying the small luxury of resting himself wouldn't bode well so best he complies. Besides, his teeth had been clattering for far too long from standing out in the cold. A warm drink and the company of strange folks with the talent for healing doesn't sound like a bad idea at all.

* * *

"Memories aren't enough, Snow Queen?"

The words sounded offensive all things considered and Elsa probably would have taken it as such but her eyes are focused on the way Onyx is folding the picture. To her relief and astonishment, he isn't using the same aggression as he would when taking someone's life. For as much as he gave her a hard time about saving it, one would think that he would have very little qualms about ripping it in half.

"Memories?" with the picture seemingly safe, Elsa focuses on the words and what they could possibly mean. She prepares for another insult thrown at her.

"You shouldn't need pictures or any tangible things to remind you of what you hold dear. They should always be inside of you."

The words were clear but the intent was perplexing. Staring at Onyx with confusion, Elsa is once again left with the idea of trying to pry through the emotionless masque—trying to decipher if it is sarcasm or just the 'I can be nice' personality that tends to seep through every once in a while. As she stands there in her thoughts, the Dragonborn seems to be doing the same.

"That was probably the most considerate thing you have ever told me in our short time knowing each other," was the only adequate response Elsa could really come up with. She wanted to express her gratitude more bluntly, but again, Onyx gives her so much ambiguity that she hardly wants to fall into another sarcastic tangent. With the silence becoming their understanding, Onyx leads on after a nod.

For the next few minutes, Elsa spends a little time taking in the ambiance of the evening crowd. This is definitely familiar. Merchants tending to their customers, haggling with prices to make their fill. There are a few children on the street, running, playing, and enjoying the evening skies as it is graciously bright enough thanks to the stars and the moons. Yes, the crowd is familiar. The sky on the other hand could take some getting used to. Elsa spends a few moments gawking at both moons; a sight that is indeed quite different from her own nighttime view. The first time she noticed it, a wave of shock coursed through her, but it was nothing as spectacular or as daunting as the things she has seen some of the people in Skyrim do. Magic. Summon strange beings. Beast folks. Inhuman battle prowess and of course no one as baffling as Onyx himself. Elsa is not given any comfort in the culture shock when it comes to her only companion; not only does he posses powers beyond her understanding, but his persona seems to be the kind Elsa doesn't care for, but then he makes comments about memories and sentiments; then there is the confusing soft spot he has for children. Elsa can only wish that his attitude with adults is something he does by choice and not something he _can't _help. Heavens forbid if they once again have to deal with something that involves politics and consideration. She spoke too soon in her head. Elsa could almost curse out loud as she immediately spots Jordis accompanied by Queen Elisif. No moment can be as simple as Elsa desperately wishes them to be.

"Falk must be preparing your sleep attire if he isn't here," Elsa had the urge to speak first, but Onyx beats her to it, unfortunately. "And you'll have to forgive me if I dare say that it is pass your bed time. In all seriousness, we are in a rush. I'm sure you understand that."

While the idea of haste is something Elsa can abide by, the unnecessary insult given by Onyx was something she could not. It takes a few moments before Elsa lifts her head up from her palm—the feeling of embarrassment and agitation still remains though.

"I do, however I want to gain some confidence in this matter," like a true Queen, Elisif pays no mind to Onyx's barbs despite it having an obvious affect on her. Elsa can only wonder if Elisif is used to them.

"Our conversation from earlier didn't settle your mind?" despite Elsa not having been in the said conversation, she can only wonder just _how_ comforting Onyx's words were.

"The idea of Miraak's followers being active doesn't settle the minds of my court, Dragonborn."

Vocabularies and names bombarded Elsa the moment she found herself captured by Hans' and his allies. The mention of the name 'Miraak' would have probably not sank in as well as it does if it wasn't for the reaction (subtle as it was) Onyx gave; One that Elsa somehow noticed right away and latched on to. Then again, Elsa can clearly remember the disdain the Dragonborn exuded when he found out that these zealots are involved. Their leader, this Miraak, seems to have more than enough of a thorn on Onyx's side as Elsa can clearly see in his body language.

"Nothing settle your minds, High Queen," it's even obvious in Onyx's tone that he is slightly annoyed; taking Frost's reigns from Jordis' hands, Elsa fervently keeps listening to the conversation, "even if I serve Mephala and Vaermina's head on a silver platter, you and _all_ of Tamriel will still knock on my door with other requests. But take solace in the idea that whatever the zealots are up to it won't get far. I _won't_ let it get far. Even if I have to go to Solstheim again."

"If there is one thing I have learned about you, Dragonborn, is that you are a man of your words. I know you will take care of it, so perhaps I _shall_ take solace in that statement."

"Then what is it that you seek confidence in?"

"I was hoping you would stay here in Solitude for a while, at least until we can gather some information."

This was something Elsa can silently agree is a better idea. Truthfully, Elsa isn't exactly fond of travelling, especially with what has transpired. While Solitude is still foreign and not without its mysteries, at least Elsa can state that it is familiar; castle and royal guards are things she can relate to—a place she can claim a small sense of comfort. Also the part of her that is Queen fervently wants to discuss things with Elisif. The High Queen seems to be close of age to Elsa so there has to be something they can relate to. The poor woman seems like she could use a neutral company; Elsa can only surmise that Elisif has had nothing but Queen related duties to deal with. The said duties also means dealing with Onyx, which Elsa knows is no easy feat. It's exasperating and aggravating especially when the Dragonborn has very little qualms in taking ever opportunity to be rude when something isn't to his liking. A testament of that is his act of merely turning his back after Elisif's suggestion.

"Onyx!" making no effort to hide her anger at Onyx, Elsa calls after him. He ignores her of course and summons Arvak. Clearly the conversation ended according to him.

"Whenever you are ready."

He simply states as he slowly rides Arvak outside the city gates and implies that he is more than ready to leave. Rude, inconsiderate, and straight to the point is how Onyx works and Elsa shouldn't be surprised. It still doesn't change the fact that his demeanor agitates her. Part of her truly wants to say more, argue more, but glancing over to Elisif, Elsa is quickly taken over by pity as the dejected face of the High Queen is also staring at the Dragonborn.

"I'll speak to him. I'm sure there are far more benefits staying here than riding off into the night."

Elisif manages a weak smile after Elsa's words, though clearly she isn't comforted by that thought—most likely because they both know the outcome of with trying to dissuade the Dragonborn otherwise.

"The Dragonborn will do as he deems necessary. In the end, he seems to have the best result out of anyone," despite being flustered, Elsa can still sense Elisif's honesty.

"You truly have faith in him despite the way he is?"

The High Queen takes a deep breath before answering. "Skyrim believed that the Dragonborn would rise from the songs of legend. Brownish blonde hair, eyes as bright as the blue lake, a Nord with the strength of a bear and the soul of a Dragon," pausing, Elisif looks at Elsa before setting her eyes on Onyx once more. "A valiant warrior for the people… the Dragonborn would banish Alduin and the people of Skyrim would rise once again with the hero of prophecy fighting by their side. Imagine the reaction of the people when they see a Dunmer—one with great power like the legends but nothing else that mirrors the legends they sung about."

Elisif words are the first that truly gives Elsa an idea what _Dragonborn_ means—what Onyx's title means to Skyrim. While some of the finer details are still vague, Elisif confirms to Elsa that Onyx isn't exactly what Skyrim asked for when it comes to a Dragonborn. As Elsa continues to dwell on the previous words, Elisif continues to speak.

"Legends and myths are highly exaggerated. Or maybe perhaps as the song says: 'the legend yet grows'. Perhaps Onyx's true path hasn't reached its pinnacle because… Alduin was just the first page of his story. Perhaps his powers are meant for greater things. Divines help us if he is as Falk preaches he is meant to be—Alduin in a mortal's form."

There is so much that Elsa wanted to ask about the moment Elisif started talking. Once again vocabularies, events, names—some Elsa has heard more than once and is getting the idea, most are still rather foreign and of course she wants to know about them. But something about the situation piques Elsa's interest far more than others. Perhaps it's the one thing she and Onyx may have in common.

"You fear his power, your Majesty?"

With a smile that follows a glum expression, Elisif responds with the same honest tone. "I do not fear his power as much as I fear what his incentives are to use them. Who he allies himself with, what he believes in, and how far he will go to stand by his pride is what frightens me."

The power of fear can do so much to people as it did to Elsa. Though the power of faith is far more powerful that it has the ability to drown out the fear. Anna had faith, resilience, and a loving heart that brought the end to Elsa's Eternal Winter—Elisif's faith in the Dragonborn may be misplaced, though it may have a chance to keep the idea of Onyx as a hero alive; at least to Elsa it might.

"Speaking of powers, some of my men have spoken about yours and how it is frost magic that is different from anything they have ever seen before."

With eyes slightly widening, Elsa responds. "Yes… my magic. It is something I am born with. A talent I am still learning to use."

"They said you were able to conjure an enchanted dress."

"Well… yes."

Elsa takes a moment to absorb Elisif's words and the expression that is laced with curiosity. Once again the idea of someone interested in her powers _because_ it's 'different' is another thing she hasn't gotten used to; especially when it's another Queen from another land. Most monarchs are usually a bit intimidated with just the idea of the Snow Queen visiting their kingdom, but Elisif is curious, not afraid. In fact, the said curiosity could also be motivated with fascination, as the glint in Elisif's eyes seems to imply. With a smile, Elsa calls upon her powers and transforms her conservative dress to the one that the people of Arendelle sees her wearing most days. The moment the transformation started, Elsa gets her confirmation that the High Queen is indeed enthralled with what she heard about Elsa's powers. Elisif's reaction of gasping and squealing like a little girl is something that puts a smile on Elsa's face. Of course the High Queen isn't the only attention that was caught with the appearance of the sparkling blue dress that now adorns Elsa's body. The citizens of Solitude take heed of the enchanted sight, which of course gives Elsa more incentive to flaunt her powers. Gathering a small magical sphere in her right hand, Elsa gives Elisif a smile before hurling it into the sky, letting it illuminate the sky and the city in a majestic blue light.

"Beautiful!" the mirth in the High Queen's voice brought another warm feeling within Elsa. The bystanders who are now fully committed to the spectacle are also audibly letting their fascinations be heard. Elsa uses this as more motivation to continue, throwing a wave of ice magic that leaves a trail of the same scintillating blue light before bursting into harmless patterns. Wave after wave, each projectile thrown elicits more and more people to truly gawk at the spectacle Elsa is creating. "Magnificent!" Elisif shouts once more and so Elsa takes heed. Swirling both her hands in front of her, Elsa visualizes an image, one that would be familiar to the people of this world, and something Elsa hopes would nudge her abrasive companion the right way.

When the right amount of energy is accumulated, Elsa pushes the sphere of blue light into the air and with a little bit of orchestration with her hands, her magic draws the symbol that Elsa saw in Onyx's book—the symbol of the Dragonborn. It was one thing to light up the skies with magic; it's another to paint a clear image with the same kind of magic. Elsa knows this and she can't help but fully enjoy the reaction of Elisif and all the people watching; they stare with delight at what is shining right above them. Though the moment of joy is slightly tainted. Looking through the crowd and towards the gates, Elsa is dejected to see that Onyx has his back turned, slowly riding farther away, not giving any sort of enjoyment at her tribute in the form of _his_ symbol.

"_Why did I give a moment of consideration_?" she thinks to herself as she watches him slowly ride out of sight.

"Show us more!"

A little girl shouts with a giggle. Elsa notices the small blonde girl whose very presence reminds her of Anna when she saw her big sister create snow magic for the first time. Pulling herself away from the thought of Onyx, Elsa nods at the little girl and continues to entertain Elisif and her people. It's a strange notion that for a place that has seen much more than Elsa reacts with such delight at a small demonstration of what her magic can do. Even the stoic Jordis seems to enjoy herself, smiling slightly at the sight of the blue sky.

"I'm afraid I must depart soon," Elsa whispers to Elisif after releasing another stream of her magic.

Still maintaining the jubilant smile, Elisif nods at Elsa. "Soon, but I do not think the children has had enough of you're beautiful school of magic," Elsa quickly sees Elisif's point; the children are all still aching to see more. "I shall make sure you leave with a full stock of Magicka potions."

A huge part of Elsa truly wants to focus on the matter of 'getting home' (whatever that may entail and however Onyx plans on accomplishing that), but Elsa also can't conceal the fact that she feels _obligated_ to continue. It's not a bad kind of obligation either, but very similar to the feeling she got when the children back at home would surround her and plead for her to make it snow. There is without a doubt that Elsa has a weakness for children and so with a smile of approval towards Elisif, Elsa hurls yet another sphere of snow magic into the air.

"I'm sure you are more than aware that I most likely won't hear the end of it from Onyx," sarcastically, Elsa tells Elisif as the magic she threw shattered into five separate pieces before bursting into streams of light in different directions.

"Oh? Are you insinuating that the Dragonborn isn't just rude to me?"

Elisif's sarcasm is one Elsa accepts with a smile. With the moment free of tension and the people enjoying the spectacle that is offered, Elsa finds it in her to delay what has harried her the moment she woke up from this strange land. She will get back home, that much she is determined to do, but it's also not in Elsa's nature to strip a good moment away. With that settled in her mind, the Queen of Arendelle continues her exhibition, calming her mind for the first time since arriving in Skyrim—after all, this may be the only moment she can truly say that she can enjoy.

* * *

Throughout the whole journey, he said very little to nothing. Elsa pushed it off as just his usual self but it didn't necessarily mean that she enjoyed it. The simple condescending sentence when she finally caught up after entertaining Solitude was something she could endure, but the silence is something of a different breed. It's agitating not to be acknowledged, but if Onyx does give her attention, would it fall into the same admonishing theme? Most likely. Though one thing Elsa took comfort in is that there was no life threatening scenarios as of yet. It was relatively a peaceful and uneventful ride. Though as soon as Onyx gave the signal to dismount, Elsa is once again reintroduced to the strange magic of watching Arvak vanish in sight. Sighing as she descends from Frost, Elsa wishes she can get past watching a knight in black armor ride a blazing skeletal horse before witnessing the said horse disappear in plain sight.

"Will he be alright?" Elsa watches as Frost wanders away, somewhat fading into the snow that covers this route that Onyx decided to take. "Shouldn't we tie him to a tree? Or will he just… vanish into thin air as well?" still no response and Elsa takes a deep breath and decides to use this to her own amusement. "I'm inclined to believe that you're a pouter."

"Oh what in Oblivion's name are you talking about now, Snow Queen?"

"You speak! And this whole time I was afraid your pouting would rob you of your talent to speak so politely and eloquently."

Onyx stops walking for a moment and turns around, facing Elsa with a rigid stance. Elsa prepares for a tirade as she stares back at him.

"You are unnervingly in a cheery mood. Flaunting your powers gives you that sort of happiness?"

"You should try it," Elsa's answer came out as cheery as Onyx described her mood to be, "you might find both children _and_ adults like you if you demonstrate your powers in a more peaceful way."

The sigh and the shrug of his shoulder could only be paired up with the rolling of his eyes, but of course the helmet hides that. Obviously not having much to say in response to her last statement, Onyx continues leading forward, leaving Elsa still baffled as to why they are now on foot.

"Is that how you calm your Arendelle? You give them a sparkle here and there?"

Clearly the subject wasn't dead to Elsa's shock. It seems that the Dragonborn does want to stab a bit in Elsa's decision to 'waste time' on giving Elisif what she politely asked to see. "That's one of the ways I bring joy to my Kingdom. I'm going to assume that's not how you would bring morale up?"

"No," he responds tersely. "But you can bring joy to me by preparing yourself."

"Prepare myself for what?"

Elsa's question is answered by an unexpected explosion that sends her in an immediate need to erect a wall of ice in front of her. Smart move on her part since a fray of spells starts to bombard her newly created shield.

"Should I say you were lucky that the first fireball missed?"

"Could you have given me a more considerate warning?" by now her wall is close to melting, so Elsa reinforces it, though she is tempted to let the side protecting Onyx to melt. "And why in heavens are we being attacked for?!"

"Do not burden yourself with asking our assailants that when they get close. Just attack and you'll do fine."

"Just atta—" a stronger force pounds on her wall causing a fraction of it to crumble. Elsa somehow managed to keep her stance; both hands now fighting to keep her remaining wall up and rebuilding what was destroyed. "Onyx!"

To Elsa's dismay, the Dragonborn is nowhere to be found. "I can only hope that you didn't deplete your Magicka creating light shows," though despite being lost visually, Onyx's voice still lingers, which reminds Elsa of his strange ability to melt into darkness. Though his words almost makes Elsa wish that he disappeared altogether. "There is a mage amongst our enemy who is an expert in destruction and conjuration. A few skeleton archers, undead mages, and of course undead raiders are at his disposal. Your wall won't last."

"If you find… this amusing… good for you! I happen to think… it's not!"

The appearance of fiery entity with a womanly figure right next to her nearly sends Elsa in a panic. Her first reaction is to freeze it, but the moment she witnesses it throw a fireball at an enemy, Elsa finds it in her to believe that it's another one of Onyx's 'creations'.

"Stand behind your wall, and Elle-Auria will abide. Lower your wall and attack and she follow until she can fight no more. The choice is yours," Elsa takes a moment to observe the womanly figure, floating ominously as her flames danced. "Regardless if you choose to hide or fight, she is at your service until her flames die out."

"And …what … about you?!" Elsa yells after Onyx, furious at the choices he laid on her feet. But the act of getting angry and raising her voice was far more detrimental. All her energy is focused on maintaining the wall and any effort given to anything else adds to the duress she is currently dealing with. Frantically, Elsa searches for a sign of Onyx who is obviously set on his plan, whatever it may be. Every second the attack on her defense becomes stronger and with that, her efforts to hide behind her wall may very well be futile. The Dragonborn didn't exactly give her options; he left her with one choice. Enraged, afraid, and unsure, Elsa summons her blue dress and not too long after, she drops her hands and steps away from her wall—it shatters into pieces a moment later, leaving Elsa and her ally to react accordingly.

Almost immediately Elsa is met with a barrage of spells and she barely manages to ward off a lightning bolt. The ice she summoned as a shield holds up enough for the first attack, but it is soon destroyed, causing her to falter and catching an excruciating sensation. The pain nearly causes Elsa to fall on all fours, gasping for air, and trying fervently to regain her composure. In that amount of time, she barely realizes that the assault continues but were deterred by the fiery entity, and if she was to make an assumption, the sound of a crossbow could only mean Onyx's hand is still at play. He's probably mocking her, shaking his head, and gathering all the right words he would use to yell at her when the battle is over. That thought alone gives Elsa the incentive to push herself up and retaliate with a beam of ice projecting from her palm. The impact caused a few skeletons flying in pieces. Not having much time to take in the idea of fighting skeletal warriors, Elsa quickly had to repel another lightning bolt with her own powers, and soon she gets a visual of the one responsible for the magic: a man wearing a ragged cloak with a staff in hand. He lets out a sound, one that Elsa isn't quite sure is even a word but as soon as his staff lets out an ominous light, she constructs yet another shield to absorb the attack and to act as an offensive tool. Commanding it to move forward, the ice construct hits the caster, causing him to fall back and dropping his staff in the process. Taking advantage of the moment, Elsa quickly covers him in ice, imprisoning him, leaving him to let out snarls and unintelligible words.

The moment of reprieve ends as soon as it came. Struck on her blindside, Elsa screams in pain as fire engulfs her, slightly forcing her to lose her footing. A few fumbling steps later, Elsa faces another cloaked man, garbed in black, eyes bloodshot red, and both hands scorching in fire energy.

"You should be on fire right now," he speaks as he takes a step forward, "yet you are barely scathed by my attack!"

"You should cease this fighting and no harm will come to you."

The man responds with a chuckle. "You come to my land and threaten me? Woman, you do not frighten me at all."

"Very well," reciprocating the gesture of flaunting, Elsa's hands are now also covered in her snow magic, "I gave you a fair warning."

"Childish. And you play with frost magic, as if you are a child. Let me show you how to truly use it," with the glow on his left hand changing element, the mage summons a spear-like object and hurls it at Elsa, giving her very little to no time to defend or evade. Putting her arms up in hopes that her magic would protect her, Elsa is astonished to find out that the projectile disintegrated to snow at the moment of impact, thus doing nothing in terms of harming her. "What the Oblivion did you just do?"

Even if Elsa knew how to answer, her chance of doing so was taken with something hitting the mage, causing him to scream in pain. With a bolt protruding from his right shoulder, it doesn't take much for Elsa to realize that the unseen assailant was none other than Onyx.

"They call her the _Snow Queen_, Drelas," both Elsa and Drelas turn towards the Dragonborn as he reloads his crossbow. "That name seems to imply that she has more than enough surprises for even an expert mage such as yourself."

"Y-You…!" still encumbered by the pain in his arm, Drelas throws a ball of fire that misses Onyx. Impressed as Elsa was that an injured man is able to cast a spell, she is even more so with Onyx's evasive maneuver. Though his tactics are still something she abhors with a passion, especially after he shoots at someone in the distance, probably killing his target.

"If you know of any restoration magic, now is the time to use your magicka on them. It would be prudent of you to heal yourself while you still have the magicka."

Elsa may not fully comprehend what Onyx insinuated, but Drelas does. Appalled and in pain, he stands there for a few moments before reacting in a desperate manner. Using his good hand, the mage project flames from his palm, setting the ground on fire, creating a divider that separates him from Elsa and Onyx. Elsa's immediate reaction is to create a wall made of ice that protects Onyx and herself from the unbearable heat.

"Is it safe to assume that you're dress is more than just expressing your need for fanciness?"

Taken back by the nonchalant way he asked and the subject of the question, Elsa responds accordingly. "What in heavens are you blabbering about now?!"

"Drelas was right. His spell should have incinerated you. The Dragon's frost breath should have killed you, and yet on both occasions, here you stand unscathed."

"I would hardly call feeling tremendous pain _unscathed,_ Onyx! And were you just enjoying the show, doing nothing as you are doing now?!"

"I would hardly call shooting down enemies from the distance doing nothing," Onyx responds sarcastically. "And don't you forget the fact that I did have Elle-Auria help you out. Poor Atronach, her flames withered not too long ago. At least she took down a few of them even in her death."

With narrowed eyes, Elsa walks up to Onyx and stops mere inches from him, standing toe-to-toe with him and glaring up at his emotionless masque. "You think this is all a joke, don't you?! You jest, you kill, you mock! It's all just a rhythm for you, isn't it? I've gathered enough to know that the _Legend of the Dragonborn_ is someone of virtue. A _hero_. Yet here you stand—"

"Here I stand going out of my way to bring you home."

"You say that as if it's a task!" the shrug of his shoulder brings Elsa's anger to new heights, but none more than when he turns his back and starts walking away. "You like children and surprisingly, children seem to adore you," and those words causes Onyx to stop walking for a moment. "What would they think if they saw this side of you? Do you want children to hate you? To fear you?"

Elsa knows first hand how it feels to have children dread her presence. She still remembers their fear as they hid behind their parents the night of her coronation. Luckily the defrosting of the Eternal Winter abated those times, though it still hurts to remember them. That and the neighboring kingdoms still has children who feeds in to the dreadful story of the 'Snow Queen'—a tale she finds ridiculous in all accounts since she would never trap children in her Ice Castle and let them freeze and starve to death.

"This land... the things I had to do," Onyx finally responds breaking Elsa out of her reverie, "I'm more than aware that you feel my ways are strange and even resent them. But let me just say that my powers and my ways are something I have made peace with a long time ago. You may be called the Snow Queen, but is it you who governs that power, or does that power control you?" there was a cold and calculated way he articulated that statement. One that Elsa can hardly find proper words to respond to. "Now, if you are done, I need you to handle the rest while I chase after Drelas."

There were plenty of things swirling in Elsa's head that deters her from stopping Onyx as he does exactly what he said he would do. Though she doesn't have the luxury to dwell in her thoughts since 'handling the rest' means taking care of Drelas' followers—vile and very disturbing followers made up of mostly armed and dangerous skeletons. Those who aren't mere bones are still somewhat human, but their movements, feral and unspeakable horrifying, along with the fact that their flesh seems frighteningly disfigured and decaying, mar any humanity they have left. None take kindly to the fact that they have a lone woman in front of her; they attack with rage and the intent of obviously doing her harm. Sighing out of her own agitation and confusion, Elsa starts the process of 'dealing' with them as they got closer. The skeletal entities receive no mercy, while the others she detains within ice, thinking that perhaps they are just in a deeper enchantment. Even if they are far from saving, Elsa can't bring herself to be responsible to desecrate the last reminder of their former selves. She keeps repeating in her mind that she isn't like Onyx; she isn't a cold-blooded murderer by choice.

* * *

Miraak can appreciate the way the masks were neatly laid out: three masks on each shelf except for the top that holds two distinguishably unique masks; their designs still maintains similarities from the other twelve, but they are definitely _different_.

"So aesthetic," the First Dragonborn speaks after a few moments of silently staring, "he even acknowledged rank in the way he displayed."

"I thought the mask known as Konharik had no master?"

Miraak sighs, barely turning to face the dunmer mage accompanying him. "If there is one thing the Last Dragonborn and I have in common, Thiera, it would be the simple fact that we both respect artifacts with great power. And Konharik is an artifact that possesses such magic that even a mage like you would benefit from it. " With those words, Miraak grabs the mask that is of great significance to him, the one displayed next to Konharik on the very top shelf. The moment he takes hold of it, Miraak can immediately feel his elation ascend.

"I'm surprised he kept your helmet."

"Why would you say that? Would you not keep a memento of an enemy who almost killed you on your wall?" it was a rhetorical question and the answer Thiera gives him doesn't even reach his ears. In fact, the first Dragonborn's act of sliding the helmet over his head makes him every bit oblivious of whatever Thiera was saying. "Perhaps I will return the favor of decorating my wall with his most sacred possessions."

Thiera may not be able to see it, but she can tell that Miraak is smiling—though the moment is broken when the sound of the others making their way up the stairs pierces the moment.

"Can't believe she gave us that much trouble!" an Orc angrily shoves a woman on the ground, causing her to land close to Thiera.

"That's because you said that magic is something you can handle quite easily," the one next to the Orc responds in a taunting manner while dusting the gem on top of his staff. "Looks like you'll be eating those words for a while."

"Not as much as Brelen ate that fireball!"

While the Orc laughed after his words, Thiera slams the end of her staff on the beaten woman's side, causing her to shriek in pain before doubling over.

"Thiera, that is no way to treat a Priestess," Miraak gestures with his hand and the Dunmer obeys by taking a few steps back. "Especially when this Priestess is one who serves Dibella so loyally."

Eventually the woman fights through her pain and manages to push herself up on her hands despite the obvious torment with every movement. The signs of abuse are obvious through her tattered and bloody clothing, and especially on her bruised and bloody face. She glares up at Miraak who is now crouching over her, pushing her hood away from her head.

"You are Senna," Miraak tells the woman as he cups her chin with his hand, "the one who took the last Dragonborn under her care after the events in Apocrypha."

Trying to rid herself of Miraak's hold is painful enough, but to speak requires more energy out of Senna that responding takes a bit of time. "You.. are Miraak… the first… Dragonborn…"

"Indeed I am. The one who left the _Hero of Skyrim_ in shambles after our bout. I heard he alleviated some of his misery through Cyrodilic brandies and temper tantrums for a while," Miraak's words evoke a few chuckles amongst his followers, which does nothing to waver Senna's glare. "Tell me, how many nights did you spend licking his wounds, Priestess of Dibella?"

"… you may… have left a scar on him.. but you never broke… his spirit…"

Inside his helmet, Miraak lets out a grin before petting Senna on her head in a condescending manner. As he stands up, the first Dragonborn keeps his gaze on Senna; the small slits on his mask allows the fallen priestess to see the delight on Miraak's eyes, which evokes more fear out of her.

"Good to hear. We cannot have a dragon face a dragon slayer with a broken spirit, can we?" with another gesture of his hand the Orc and his Breton companion starts grabbing the Dragonpriest masks. "Take anything else that would be useful. After all, I am quite sure that the hero of Skyrim will not miss them."

"And what of her?" Thiera points her staff at Senna who barely reacts to her action.

"Her fate does not concern me," making a point through his words, Miraak steps over Senna and makes his way down the stairs. "I'll leave that to your capable hands, Thiera."

**To Be Continued.**


	18. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen VIII

The taste of Drelas' blood still lingers after all this time. It's not a flavor I'm used to—raw blood that is. It's been a while. Senna had always tried to pull me away from drinking from '_fresh meat_'. Makes me ponder as to how diluted the blood potions were that she supplied me. They were blood that much I can say, but I know they aren't the same thing as drinking from the original source. Molag-Bal knows that I haven't truly been a _real_ Vampire Lord for a while now. It's been some time since I actually poked at that idea. I wonder what Serana would say to me now? It's been some time since I saw her as well… all these things that are swirling in my head and I have Elsa to deal with. Though I barely have any real moment to bounce these issues. The thick cloud in the sky has had my attention for some time now. Probably part of the reason why I've been so hard on Arvak these last few minutes. Needless to say, ever since I spotted the smoke, it's been a fast and straightforward ride. I'm not exactly fond of the idea of where it possibly comes from.

"Onyx!" I hear her call out behind me; surprisingly her voice carries over the distance and the constant sound of hooves hitting the ground. "Would you mind slowing down?!"

I have to remind myself that my current action of riding with haste has everything to do with that ominous smoke in the sky. I'm not leaving her behind or keeping her in the dark because of her… though I cannot help but remember her words; how she easily judged me based on what she read in that half-informed book. Am I easily judged like so? So easy that a stranger who has not walked my footsteps can admonish me because of the beings I choose to use to my advantage? How can she even do such a thing when she is oblivious of Tamriel's ways? There I am again letting her dominate my thoughts. When I manage to find her a ship and set her sails towards this Arendelle, I'll congratulate myself for getting rid of one of the most strangest, pestering, beautiful woman who has ever crossed paths with me.

Then a movement ahead forces me pull on the reigns and come to an abrupt stop, causing Arvak's flaming hooves to grind through the snow. He lets out one of his strange noises before finally recomposing himself, which in turn allows me to stabilize my posture. As my hand itches to reach for Avarice, I hear Elsa and Frost stopping next to me. Luckily she grasped the idea as to why we came to a complete halt.

"What in—"

I cut her question off with a signal of my hand. I need to focus on the figure slowly walking our direction and not on whatever nonsensical thing that would come out of the Snow Queen's mouth.

"_Laas Yah_," my whisper immediately detects a lone undead figure slowly making its way towards us. I had already surmised that it was an undead due to the sounds it was letting out. This makes things even more peculiar. What in Oblivion is it doing in the middle of nowhere? It would make more sense if it came from Silent Moons Camp, but there are no auras emanating from that direction. There is something more to this.

"Onyx…"

I don't give Elsa a fragment of my attention. Instead I keep my gaze ahead. The undead figure that is slowly making its way our direction starts to become more recognizable, race wise. A Bosmer, or at least it was… the charred skin barely allows any sort of resemblance to what he once was, but the short stature and the pointy ears give me all the evidence I need to recognize its former self.

"Stay where you are."

I tell Elsa as I slide off Arvak and cautiously walk towards the undead. It lets out a sound in response to my sudden movement and its next few steps becomes faster. Harried from being burned half to death (and possibly dying a slow painful death as there seems to be no other sign of fatal wounds), it can barely make a pace that is worth an ounce of worry from anyone who knows how to wield a blade. The walking dead could only be a threat if it was still in functional form or they come in great numbers. Fortunately, this one seems to be alone. Who reanimated it? Is it connected to that smoke? I take a few steps closer with Muramasa ready, eyes scanning everywhere, trying to decipher some kind of set up. Something like this isn't just a mere coincidence. Wandering draugrs is plausible but a freshly reanimated carcass? My next step is deterred by a small detail. Everything about the Bosmer is just about burned. From the looks of it, it was wearing some kind of leather armor, which didn't hold up very well against flame. But something on its arm seems out of place. The jewelry wrapped around its arm seems to signify far more than it should. Waiting until the undead is in range, I cut it down, letting its apparel (or what was left of it) fall on top of the pile of ash it leaves behind. Waiting a few moments in case there was something more to the enchantment holding the Bosmer, I attentively crouch down, picking up the jewelry. It doesn't take long for me to realize and the worse assumption in my head has come true. It's an amulet of Dibella—Senna's amulet.

"What is it?" as Elsa's voice echoes from behind, I grasp the amulet tightly and make my way towards Arvak. "Onyx?"

If the amulet carried by the undead Bosmer was different… if it was a commonly crafted amulet of Dibella I would have thought twice, but it's not. Everything about it is unique, as I have made sure it was when I commissioned it for her. The beads that form the necklace are all made of onyx, thus making the floral sigil of Dibella stand out even more. The sigil is of course the only thing that remained as close to the generic amulet handed out to common worshippers. Even the bronze like feathers that decorate the necklace are trademark for Senna's unique amulet… she admonished me for days because I made it so 'dramatic'. Though she rarely took it off despite her disdain for the decorations; in bed, while bathing, when tending to my lust… she almost always wore it. There would only be one reason why it would be off of her: The worse case scenario. With that thought in mind, I place the amulet in my pouch and turn to Elsa after jumping on Arvak.

"Ride with haste."

Arvak complies with those words and we ride with speed. This feeling… this dreadful thought always comes to mind. I made enemies through the years and it's not a far-fetched idea that they would choose to go after people who associated themselves with me. For the most part, the majority of the attempts never took off properly or they were thwarted with ease but _none_ attempted to make it a point to come to _my_ home outside the walls of the cities I am Thane in. Solitude, Whiterun, and even Riften have some laws for me to abide by but in Heljarchen Hall there are no rules. I can retaliate with as much vehemence as I want and no one would be alive to tell the tale. So would there be someone asinine enough to attempt such an act? I already knew the answer to that; the sky is thick with smoke, the smell of fire burning, and soon I get the image that sets my assumption to reality: Heljarchen Hall was attacked and is now in flames. I stop for a moment, pulling on Arvak as I witness the structure of the tower collapse, and with it, the second floor follows suit, causing the fire to erupt in dangerous patterns and embers to scatter all over due to all the weight coming down. However else I feel about the situation, I have to set it aside. I've seen worse, felt worse; I have more important things to keep my focus on. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously ride forward with haste, searching for any signs of Senna.

"Onyx…" the dread in Elsa's face mirrors the rage I feel building inside. I can feel my teeth grinding together, my eyes burning… but all that enhances as I catch a mortifying sight—the same one that Elsa is staring at. "Is that… no… Heavens no…"

Just a few feet ahead is a wooden stake perched at the edge of the small hill. Tied on top of it is Senna, naked and lifeless. I immediately push off of Arvak and make my way towards her; my ebony boots sinking into the snow with every heavy step. My home continues to burn yet I give very little care as the fire snaps at me, nor do I even get pestered at the cinders flying at me as I walk pass the chaos. I hear Elsa faintly in the background, but my focus becomes more in tune with Senna's corpse… part of me denies this happened. Part of me wants to keep repeating the idea that this is just some highly well placed body just to get to me—and Senna is somewhere alive. But the closer I get, the more I come to terms with the reality. Senna is dead and died a horrific way. Obviously tortured and mauled; displayed in the most degrading way. Whoever did this made sure that her dignity is stripped… her full body in display for anyone who comes this direction. With her hands tied to the horizontal part of the stake, her arms span out, further exposing her already mutilated body. How much of it she was alive for, I can only hope she wasn't… especially for the symbol carved on her stomach; a sign that is obviously pointing at me: the symbol of the Dragonborn. Each detail of the said symbol cut into Senna's flesh… with the wound still raw and bleeding, the snow below is dark and murky, like a puddle of crimson water; a sign that she has been strung up here or hours. I feel myself being blundered with a few emotions; the more prominent ones are sadness, rage, confusion, and the _need_ for vengeance.

"You'll have to forgive the dramatics!" a voice from the distance causes me to unsheathe my blade, "but I wanted to make sure I would catch your attention, _Last_ Dragonborn!" I didn't recognize the voice that was taunting me, but half the time, I never really do. But it doesn't matter if it's a familiar enemy or not. This Dunmer woman is going to _die_ a painful death. Perhaps vengeance isn't so far away. "Oh and there she is, the Snow Queen herself!"

"Onyx, don't—"

I barely took heed of Elsa. Talking no longer has a place and this Dunmer woman spoke too many words than she deserves. She needs to _die. _Now. Mounting Arvak, I charge at the woman, ready to take her head off her shoulders. Despite the rage, I already knew that she wanted me to attack blindly… and the distance is her advantage. And so she starts casting Destruction spells one after another. The amount of magicka she is spending should have slowed her spell casting, but obviously she possesses powers on par with an Archmage. That adds more satisfaction when she dies by my blade. Of course getting through her spells is the first priority. I managed to evade a few, but eventually Arvak gets caught and I find myself having to advance on foot. As I feign to the side to avoid a thunderbolt, I feel the ground shake and the obvious answer to the tremors is the coming of two giants, and at least three mammoths. Giants and mammoths are of course common around this area, but undead ones are not. Obviously they are reanimated for the purpose of fighting for this Dunmer.

"Did you think it was going to be an easy feat, _Last_ Dragonborn?" both the giants walk pass her; the mammoths stay by her side. "Allow me to change your mindset."

The giants' pace quickens and soon they are upon me, the first swinging its weapon downwards, the next following with a stomp after I evade the first attack. I retaliate—quickly and without any intent of 'toying' with my assailants; I let my blade cut through the leg of the closest one, causing it to wail and topple slightly, and clumsily stumble into its pair.

"_Yol Toor_!" the moment I shouted, the fire spreads quickly on one of them, and with that, "_Fus Ro Dah_!"

While loosing their footing was part of the idea, spreading the fire on both of them was the intent. Fire is always a deadly tool against them, but with them being undead, the damage would be far more. Then suddenly I feel a rush of pain, causing me to fall backwards. Regaining my composure was a must; the mage does not let off and I find myself using Spellbreaker to resist a lightning spell that she keeps pushing on me. Though her spell casting is merely one danger to pay attention to. Wolves, ones under her reanimation control pounce at me, forcing me to put all my attention towards them, which of course gives the mage all the opening she needed to blast me with another thunderbolt. As I slide across the ground in pain, the remaining wolves that were not disintegrated by the conjurer's spell maintains their aggression; I keep my blade between them and their fangs, which was enough space for me to shout. The fire of my Thu'um sends them scampering and allows me to stand back up and regain my offense. Of course it can't be that easy since one of the mammoths are now charging my way. To make matters a bit more complicating, the giants, one half burning and falling apart, the other fire damaged but still able—both are coming my way as well. As I form the idea of taking on the giants first to finally be rid of them, the snow on the ground extends and ensnares them before hardening to the point of restraining the giants. From there, boulders of ice, large enough to block cave entrances starts falling from a small cloud above them, causing damage that is enough to cause the badly burned giant to start crumbling to pieces. Not only that, the Dunmer is given a fair share of distraction, having been forced to use her time and magicka to fend off tendrils of ice reaching for her and the undead guardians. Once again, Elsa's foreign magic is beyond me—but the next immediate danger, the mammoth, is upon me and fascination for Elsa's powers is hardly appropriate. A flaming familiar distracts the beast giving me the time I needed.

"_Wuld Nah_," the first two words allow me to move faster than the beast could muster (still slightly distracted by the spectral wolf's explosion) and I use its trunk to maneuver myself atop its body, and with that, "_Kest!_" I push off, using the momentum from the sprint to jump high and towards the Dunmer mage. As I fall, my left hand reach out into the open as a fiery glow enables the familiar gift of Meridia to form. With Dawnbreaker in my grasp, I dive downwards, towards the Dunmer who just deterred Elsa's frost magic from accomplishing what they were meant to do. As I predicted, the mammoth protects the conjurer, putting its gargantuan body in the way. With Dawnbreaker glowing as bright as the sun, I stab the beast, unleashing the power of Meridia's distaste for the undead. The result is the mammoth crumbling in a pile of ash after the burst of blue fire. The shockwave follows, hitting the other reanimated beings, causing them to flee in pain as the fire from Dawnbreaker starts to purge their existence. Clutching both blades tightly, I turn to face the Dunmer who somehow managed to gain some distance between she and I in a short amount of time.

"That was rather impressive," she taunts as I continue to walk towards her, "and I must say, the Snow Queen isn't just a pretty face either! If she truly is _herself_, she would be a dangerous entity in the land of ice and snow," ignoring her words, I lunge at her, though the result is Muramasa hitting nothing but empty air. The Dunmer woman is once again some few feet away; the smug grin still etched on her face as she shrugs her shoulders. "There are far too many magic in Nirn that are forgotten. Some may even challenge the Thu'um itself," to make a point, she once again moves with speed that can't be caught with the naked eye; she's even farther now—too far for my blades. "Do not fret. You're not only one that is blind to true power. But when you finally see, and _when the Snow Queen_ remembers, then this world will cease to be."

Using her strange magic, the woman flees, leaving her words resonating long after she is out of sight. Elsa, Miraak's zealots, ancient magic, and the sigil stones… pieces of the puzzle that seem to not have any direct correlation. It makes serving this puzzle far more convoluted than it has to be. With Dawnbreaker's flame finally seeping through my armor's protection, I retract it, shaking my hand, ensuring that the damage done by the holy fire isn't permanent. But despite all the physical pain, the true agony lies in the murder left behind. Senna's death is the true wound inflicted here. With the battle seemingly over, I make my way back with the intent of at least saving some of the Priestess' dignity. Elsa is standing not too far away from the pile of ashes that were once beasts fighting for the Dunmer. She makes contact with those swollen teary eyes. I walk pass her, trying to avoid her attempt to comfort.

"Onyx, I…." she grabs my arm, stopping me for a moment, "… I am truly sorry."

I stand there, letting her apology sink in before taking my arm back and continue to do what I need to do. Somehow I always knew that Senna would be a casualty for my lifestyle. More than once I have tried to push her back towards Markarth where she could have lived her life closer to Dibella; serving the Aedra as she should have instead of tending to me. Instead here she is: tortured, degraded, and murdered. I barely notice the ground lift from underneath me… a result of Elsa's magic to aid me in the process of getting Senna down. I take the help and slowly cut Senna's bonds and I cradle her lifeless body in my arms. There are many thoughts swirling in my mind… vengeance is of course one of the most prominent ones but I know that putting Senna to rest requires some sort of serenity. I gaze into the fire that is swallowing the last remaining structure of Heljarchen Hall and I know now that it must be this way. I ignore Elsa's offer of her cloak to cover Senna. Instead I ignite my ancestors' gift and the moment the fire surrounds me, it protects me as I get closer to the madness that was once mine and Senna's home.

"What are you doing?" of course Elsa isn't aware this fire can't really hurt me as long as I have my flame cloak. Or maybe she just isn't clear as to what I am about to do.

"This was her home," I answer tersely as I glance at Senna. The fire from my cloak already started nipping away at her flesh… a sight that seems to be far more peaceful than the distorted condition she is in now. As I find myself walking deeper into the heat, the fire truly starts to tear her away. The process is fast, aggressive, and yet I feel nothing but the heat and Senna on my arms. Despite her body giving in to the fire, thus decreasing the weight I am carrying, it feels as if my arms are getting heavier by the minute.

"_Take the world by storm, Onyx_," I heard her say so many times before. Even as I stare at her face, a face I see as peaceful, sleeping, untouched by the violence she endured before her death, I hear those words. I see her smile. "_And may Dibella guide you,_" of course those words hound me as finally the flames take away the last image of her. Every moment after that becomes a blur.

I stand in the middle of the fire… staring at my hands for however long. I became oblivious to time and even to the burning sensation of having my heated armor press against my skin. The flame cloak can only protect me for so long, and it seems that I have overstayed my welcome. I lift my head and stare at the sky. The new day seems to be upon us and yet somehow I feel like yesterday should have lasted a little longer. But time moves on and waits for no one; even those who mourn must endure and carry on. With that in mind, I shout.

"**_STRUN BAH QO_**!"

Using Storm Call takes its toll on me, especially after the battle that just took place. I can feel my body wanting to give in to the fatigue, the anger… but I remain as I am, standing as I watch the affect of my voice. Mere moments after I released the Thu'um, dark clouds start to cover the sky, the sound of thunder echoes, and soon enough, the downpour of heavy rain starts to kill the fire that is still burning aggressively. With the flames slowly disappearing, it's truly easy to see traces of what was once mine and Senna's home. At least for her, her body withered within its walls… I will live on remembering this. Fists clenched, I turn around and is greeted by Elsa standing a few feet away from me. A small 'wall' of ice hovers above her head, protecting her from both rain and the lighting. Though strange as it is, she seems to be untouched by the storm's rage. The lightning strikes don't even get near her. Not that it seems to bother her regardless. I am more than aware that she is far more concerned with what just transpired—with the things that has been happening the last few days. It's not difficult to know that Elsa is a caring person. She seems to put enough concern with people she doesn't know… Senna may have been Senna towards me but the Priestess definitely had her ways with people. It makes the situation a bit crueler for the Snow Queen since Senna was genuinely kind to her.

"Onyx…" she lifts her head, meeting my gaze with those dejected blue eyes, "this was all my fault…"

Her fault she says. I can't say that I don't have a slight aversion for her presence. In more ways than one it could very well be her fault… but that would be the side of me that wants someone to be blamed at this very moment. I know it's not truly her fault. It's plainly obvious that Elsa's arrival in Skyrim was not by her own doing. She was taken here against her own will and she seems to be forced to play a part in some twisted game someone is playing. _This isn't her fault_, I know it, and Senna _knows_ it.

"We will find a way to get you home and then I will slaughter everyone responsible for this," I expected her to dislike my words, but given the situation, she merely stares at me with a pity. _That_ I do not need. "We need to get to Whiterun. I need to replenish my supplies."

I stare at her for a few moments and she the same before I start to walk pass her. I notice Elsa tries to reach out for me. Her trembling hands stop and she retracts, shying away as she sheds a few more tears. At least one of us is capable of shedding tears for a Priestess who did not deserve the fate she received. Though the ones responsible will get what they deserve. _That much I am certain_.

**To be continued. **


	19. Elsa: Behind the Mask

It didn't happen. The horrific event that remains fresh in Elsa's mind is just another nightmare caused by her stay here in Skyrim. _Senna isn't dead_.

_"But she is_," but despite all her efforts to lie to herself, the voice inside Elsa's head won't let her believe it, _"she's dead and you need to stop trying to shelter that naïve mind of yours, your Majesty. That priestess is dead!_"

The mixture of guilt, grief, and anger are all intertwined with every word that uttered by her doppleganger. Perhaps she is going insane… even her nightmares are haunting her when she's awake.

_"You were right to tell that arrogant man that it's your fault. Just like your crew—just like Marius, Onyx's little Priestess was raped, killed, and humiliated because of—!" _

"STOP!" with that word, Elsa lifts her head up form her hands; eyes heavy and swollen due to all the crying that she has been doing. She buried her face in her hands in hopes of getting some solace from the carnage that is right in front of her, but alas there was none to be had. Though what is the better option: to hear that dreadful voice that has been taunting her for some time now or to witness the aftermath of the mortifying event that just transpired? While Elsa has been sitting on the ground for at least an hour, the dreadful sight of Senna displayed the way she was and her dejecting cremation in Onyx's arms seems just a mere moment ago. The images are fresh and the distraught she feels will be with her for the rest of her life. It seems that tragedy just seems to follow her the moment she fell for Hans' trap.

The possibility of her drowning in her guilt is interrupted by the sound of Onyx emerging from the lower grounds of his once proud home. Elsa stands up to meet him, not entirely sure what to say. "They were efficient," he tells her coldly, "they left barely anything." Elsa can only assume that his basement were full of supplies until the people responsible for Senna's death looted it. Of course material things shouldn't be that much of an issue and it probably isn't. To Elsa's understanding, Onyx is hardly one to lack the things he needs so the spite about his items stolen is baffling. She'd like to push the issue, but this moment is hardly the time. "Here," he stops abruptly causing Elsa to almost bump into him. Looking down at his hand, she notices that he is offering her a blue bottle of some sort.

"What is it?"

Before he replies, Onyx lets out a sigh. "I don't claim to know how your magic works but I can assume that you'll need to replenish yourself after using so much. It's what we call a Magicka potion."

Astonished, Elsa stares at the bottle for a few seconds but hurried to take it off Onyx's hand after he lets out yet another agitated sound. Best to take his generosity while he has it is the best course of action for Elsa. "Thank you," she says softly, holding the bottle tightly as she rubs her eyes. She isn't exactly sure what the content in the bottle would do to 'replenish' her magic; she's never had to use any before. She has limits, yes, but her will and mindset will recover her snow magic soon enough.

"Whiterun is a ways ahead but we can't lose anymore time," by now Onyx is making his way towards his summoned steed; Frost arrives shortly after he whistles for him.

"Onyx," despite herself, Elsa calls for the Dragonborn before she grabs Frost's reigns, "will you be alright?"

Onyx doesn't respond immediately, but he didn't really need to. His body posture changed completely and it was enough to confirm that Elsa should not have asked; but she couldn't help it. It's part of her nature now.

"Will I be alright? Why?" he turns his head to gaze at her. "I have sent many companions to the other worlds. It is nothing—"

"Even you can't say it is nothing, Onyx," Elsa interrupts harshly, unable to swallow what he was insinuating. The memory of him standing in the flames with Senna's body reenters her mind and she can't help but shed another tear.

"I will pretend that this isn't the moment where you are trying to claim that you know me so well."

"I am not trying to claim anything, Onyx. I'm trying to let you know that—"

"You are sorry, yes, I am aware. You've stated that. And I am also aware that you feel that this falls on you and truthfully, I cannot refute that," he pauses, and in that moment, Elsa lets the guilt sink in even more. "But the truth is, I have enemies and Boethiah knows that one day they would have gone this route. It is a plain fact that your kidnappers and my enemies are one and the same. The fault is on them no matter how someone spins it."

At least he has some consideration is what Elsa is thinking; she doesn't say it though. There are other pressing issues in her mind to talk about. "I was also trying to say that… I know how you feel. These people have taken innocent lives that were under my care as well," if Elsa could truly cry some more, she would have, but alas even she is spent from crying for so long. Lifting her head from staring at the blackened snow under her feet, Elsa turns her attention back to Onyx as he climbs on Arvak.

"If only you truly know how I feel," and even in the wake of grief, Onyx manages to recollect his abrasive and agitating persona. "The fact is, you know nothing, Snow Queen."

Those words stirred some anger out of Elsa and her facial expression shows it. And that would be the last she can take. Grieving he might be, his attitude however is something she can't tolerate and she let it be known. "Take off your helmet and say those words again." While Elsa felt her throat dry up from such a bold demand, she also stands strong, unrelenting, and her icy blue eyes determined to glare through the hollow eyes the ebony Masque gives her. It hardly registers to her that her fists are clenched and the snow on the ground is starting to regain the white like radiance instead of the ash-tainted color due to reacting to her. If the Queen of Arendelle had to guess, she would probably say that right now, inside that dreadful helmet of his, Onyx is glowering at her direction as he tugs on his flaming horse to take a few steps towards her. "You act like you are the only one who knows how tragedy feels like. As if Senna's death doesn't affect me! You act like these people didn't shed the blood of good people who gave their lives protecting me!" and her bravery only ascends as she speaks.

"Tragedy? Do not mock me, woman. Here you stand speaking of blood and death when your hands tremble when you cast your spells—afraid that you might kill," he speaks harshly but Elsa doesn't allow his words to break her posture. "Tamriel is hostile. Every corner there might be another world eater or a floating island waiting to feast on every soul available. _People come and people go_. **People die**. It's what the living choose to do after their cherished ones' death that matters," he pauses for a moment before speaking again. "I won't let Senna's death be in vain. I meant what I said. _I will slaughter the ones responsible_."

While Onyx wasn't shouting, his voice and the message behind his words carries over and all its weight crashes down on Elsa. As if she needed to feel anymore dejected with the current situation.

"You're so adamant about bloodshed, Onyx. I'm afraid that might be your only source of solace. Mourning should not involve the need for revenge."

"Do you not want to avenge the people who died for you? Do you not want vengeance?"

"Does it always have to be about bloodshed? Will even grieving involve more senseless killing when it comes to you, Dragonborn?"

It was a natural reaction for Elsa to counter a question with a question. In the past, some of her political pressures were abated with her turning the situation on her persecutors. Angered representatives of neighboring kingdoms with their claims of her witchcraft were often given audience and Elsa would stand accused—she would speak calmly and showed them that she is not the _power crazed Snow Queen_ as rumors have depicted her as. Most days she made anyone looked like fools because she had conviction. She might have many years of redemption, but redeeming herself requires her to forgive herself and stand firm at fighting to make a better tomorrow for her, for Anna, and the Kingdom of Arendelle. But her words to Onyx, her question… somehow _senseless killing_ in the act of avenging doesn't seem so _senseless_. Despite herself, Elsa feels like blood must be spilled for justice to be…

"_No_," she admonishes herself, "_Don't think like that!_"

"If you have to ask that question," amidst Elsa scolding herself in her mind, Onyx speaks up and quickly pulls her out of her thoughts, "if you truly believe in those words that you just uttered then my accusations are correct. You know nothing and you _certainly_ do not know how I feel."

With those words, Onyx rides forward leaving Elsa unable to respond to him. It's not like she doesn't have anything to yell at him—quite the opposite. There are a plethora of things Elsa can say that coincides with her anger—many things that further perpetuates her opinions on Onyx but she can't seem to shake off the feeling that part of her wants to spill the blood of the murderers responsible for Senna, Marius, and the many Arendelle soldiers. The sickening feeling of truly wanting Hans dead deters her from saying any more. Anything she tries to say now will only mean she is lying.

Taking a deep breath, Elsa is more than convinced that she needs to find a way out of Skyrim. The air seems to be poisoning her morality. Blood for blood is never the answer. Never.

"_Keep trying to fool yourself, Elsa_," the voice inside of her calls out.

* * *

Earthquake and thunder. With his heart pounding from fear, Hans runs outside and follows the others as they try to figure out what caused the tremor that woke half of them up. Hans himself was in the middle of resting; fatigue caught up to him faster than he would like to admit. Alas, the fact remains true that rest for the wicked seems like an impossible endeavor most times.

"It works!" through the murmurs of the crowd, an excited holler echoes. "By Malacath, this is it! This is the true Hammer of Might! This is Volendrung!"

Hans can honestly say that he can stereotype Orcs as a brute, savage, and hostile barbarians just from the handful he met. He can't say that he is too fond of them either but he can acknowledge that they are intimidating—this one in particular, Lurrgam, most definitely exudes a fair amount of intimidation that makes Hans steer clear of him. Standing amidst a small crater with a glowing hammer in both hands (easy to surmise that it's the cause of the earth shattering sound) and with a sardonic grin that showcases his protruding tusks, Hans has _every_ reason to feel a bit intimidated by Lurrgam's presence. But the man who always accompanies the Orc doesn't share the same fear as Hans as he is now rolling his eyes and speaking to Lurrgam in a scolding tone.

"Best not get lost on beating the ground with your new toy, Lurrgam," the shorter man admonishes, resting his hands on the staff that is slung across his shoulders, "the snow does not fight back."

"Jealous, Fenalf?" Lurrgam merely responds with a laugh while flaunting the Hammer of Might.

"That would not be the right word to describe how I feel. After all, I was able to hoard a few good soul gems."

"Bah! While I don't exactly know how a Dunmer was able to get a hold of Malacath's artifact, I can say that his choice of having the guts to fight blood for blood and not throw light shows from afar will definitely make his death by my hands more _fitting_."

While Lurrgam and Fenalf continue their bickering, Hans notices that Miraak appears from behind the wall of storm, followed by Ahna, and coming in last was the strange hooded man from earlier. The moment they were noticed, everyone, including the bickering Orc and his companion acknowledges them—it's a strange sight for Hans to see an Orc like figure to show reverence and drop on one knee. Best he follows suit despite him not really favoring the idea of bowing; then again, the Prince of the Southern Isles has learned to swallow his pride. Humility will soon give him power; or at least that's what is insinuated the moment Gilaro freed him from his cell. Though the thought of Gilaro's fate gives Hans more than enough aversion, but alas, he is not like that Dunmer. Hans is meant for greater things, or so he keeps repeating to himself.

"_Light shows_ as you call them gave the Last Dragonborn more than enough to contend with at our battle in Apocrypha," his voice is now somewhat muffled due to the strange new headgear, but Hans will recognize Miraak when he speaks in any situation. "Best you remember that or Volendrung will have a new wielder sooner than anticipated."

Hans can clearly see that the Orc wanted to respond in both words and violence. The simple act of Lurrgam clenching his fists around his new weapon clearly points that out. Miraak is aware of it, Hans is sure but even a hulk such as Lurrgam knows his place around the First Dragonborn.

"And as _impressive_ as that skull crusher might be, we dare not forget the other treasures that we attained," either Hans didn't notice the sword now sheathed on Miraak's belt before, or Miraak gripping the blade by the hilt as it hangs on his waist is implying that it was part of what they had acquired from their errand. Regardless, the hooded man steps forward as he holds yet another strange item. "Does it not feel exalting to wear the true mask of Konahrik, Wulfgar? The replica you wore for so long did nothing for you," both Ahna and Wulfgar give Miraak a glare that is obvious even with their eyes covered by their headgear. A chuckling Miraak bows his head sarcastically. "I mean no insult towards the _Lord_. His gifts to you are of course worthy of praise. But please, do go on, herald of the great one. Rahgot awaits."

A few moments pass as the hooded man named Wulfgar and Miraak stare at each other before action is taken. Raising the strange item, one that Hans is able to decipher as yet another mask, Wulfgar speaks. "_Lahney Ontzos_," barely understandable due to the force that erupted from him, everyone, even Miraak, find themselves taking a step back (for some and even Hans, the force caused them to stumble and even fall back) as the mask in Wulfgar's possession starts to omit a fiery glow. "Live."

And with that one word that Hans was able to understand, the item levitates from Wulfgar's hand and hovers above them. It stops flying away after it reaches a certain point, but as soon as it does, it starts unleashing waves of energy that means to hit anything and anyone, causing panic and disarray. Many are struck, some remain on the ground after the energy-like tendrils passes through them with unwavering force, burning through clothing and flesh like nothing. Hans does his best evading his way through the madness and more than once he nearly fails. When it finally stops after a few minutes, Hans considers himself lucky since he wasn't sure just how much longer he would have been able to play the evasive game—judging from the motionless bodies on the ground and the concerto of agonized groaning from those who yet lives with their injuries, Hans managed quite well.

"Still demanding a grand scene, I see," of course Miraak would still be standing calm and unbothered by the chaos that just transpired; his attention focused on the mask that was responsible for all the chaos, which Hans doubly notes is still hovering with an ominous glow above them. "Even after all this time being dead, Rahgot still finds commotions as a source of entertainment."

Hans could scoff at the statement obnoxiously if it wasn't for the fact that the said commotion isn't over. The mask lets out yet another glow and soon after, energy from all over starts to fly at its direction. With a quick observation, Hans quickly realizes that the strands of purple light that are floating upwards are all coming from the lifeless bodies that are scattered all over the courtyard. Having learned plenty of things about the strange and dangerous magic that exists here in Nirn, Hans is able to put together that the life force—the souls of the dead are now being absorbed and the reason presents itself soon enough; what was once an archaic stone mask with lethal power becomes something different altogether. With the life force of the dead feeding it, the mask starts to gain form, shape… a body. A pair of arm, legs… soon the mask inhabits an entity of skeletal frame but a humanoid nonetheless. As it starts to descend, the newly formed creature looks about, its head veering from right to left as it lets out deathly sounds of gurgling and hissing. As it catches sight of Miraak, the most _perturbed _and unnatural roar comes out of it before a nearby staff flies to its hand. Obviously the sight of Miraak is the cause for the aggression. The First Dragonborn merely chuckles despite the survivors preparing themselves.

"I am honored you remember, Rahgot," signaling Lurrgam and the rest of them to stand at ease, Miraak continues to speak to the creature with pride in his voice, "but those days are long forgotten. You are but a fragment of yourself and your powers are now dictated by the one that can slay you."

The creature known as Rahgot does not take kindly to Miraak's words and after it wails at the Dragonborn due to annoyance, it hurls a sphere of flame with its skeletal hand. Miraak merely steps out of the way, using his gauntlet to deflect the rest of the spell. As it was about to attack again, something causes Rahgot to abruptly stop all movements. To Hans' disdain, Rahgot turns its attention on him, and the Prince can feel fear spreading all over his body; he takes a few steps back only to find himself bumping into another person. With one hand clutching the hilt of his blade, Hans steps back to gain a position that would allow him to face both Rahgot and the person behind him—which is none other than Wulfgar. In his hand, he offers to Hans the amulet, the same one Gilaro handed to him weeks ago.

"Take it, boy," Miraak calls from afar. "You will only have a chance if you wear it." Rahgot is now upon them, unleashing a frost spell capable of encasing anyone in its cold embrace. Though a magical barrier seems to protect Hans and Wulfgar, deterring Rahgot's hostility from reaching them. "Cease your fumbling and take the Amulet of Power," even Miraak's voice carries over the carnage that Rahgot is causing.

"I'm not stupid! It wants the amulet!" it doesn't take much to figure out that Rahgot's sudden change was caused by Wulfgar appearing behind Hans while holding the amulet. In fact, the erratic and feral attempt Rahgot is inflicting on the barrier proves the thought. Also, it seems to be hypnotized by the amulet, thus why it never takes its gaze off of it.

"Fear will not gain you power, Prince."

As if on cue after Miraak speaks, the barrier breaks and Rahgot charges towards the amulet, which is still in Wulfgar's grasp. The unfortunate thing is that Hans is in the way and its painfully obvious that the undead will destroy anything in its path just to get to the trinket. Cursing himself for his ambivalence, Hans prepares for the worse fate of being burned to death… though that fate is not today.

"Take the amulet you fool!" Ahna shouts after puncturing Rahgot with a few arrows. "NOW!"

After two more arrows penetrates Rahgot's deteriorating armor, the undead hisses and turns its attention on the archer with fury in the form of fire. Ahna is fast despite the amount of armor she wears and Hans can truly say that the woman is skilled beyond his understanding—but that kind of admiring is for another time. With the thoughts of ambiguity casted aside at the moment, Hans takes the amulet from Wulfgar's hand and hangs it on his neck. It is then that the black gem encased in the gold frame lets out a weak light—feint as it may be, it was more than enough to retract Rahgot's attention back towards it—back to Hans. Pulling his blade out of the scabbard, Hans prepares for the inevitable fight. However the new found valor would hardly be enough to aid the Prince of the Southern Isles as a dangerous crack of light causes him to roll out of the way. Rahgot unleashes another lightning spell, forcing Hans to move even quicker than before, rolling forward, barely dodging out of the way. As he gets to his feet, the Prince realizes that his undead opponent outwitted him, and out of its staff, a barrage of deathly heat comes blasting his way and Hans can only lift his hand in desperation knowing that this could very well be the end of him. It would have been his end if it was not for the strange barrier that appears before the palm of his hand; a form of magic that he seems to posses that prevents the fire from swallowing him. While the newfound power does prove itself, Hans can feel the tension in his arms and his strength being drained as he perpetuates the spell. As it is, Hans knows that he won't be able to continue this tactic; getting around the spell or finding the vigor to move forward and counter attack is his only chance. Though it's easily said than done and Hans can feel his body giving in with every second that passes.

But something forces Rahgot to halt his attack, giving Hans a moment of reprieve. Trying his best to catch his breath, Hans is able to make out the reason for his relief and smiles inwardly as more of Ahna's arrows causes the mage to falter, momentarily forcing Rahgot to fall on its feet and out of its floating stance. "Do not squander this moment!" firing another arrow, Ahna continues to yell at Hans. "Strike it with your sword!"

Taking advantage of the opening, Hans complies, clutching his blade with both hands as he charges forward. It would be an easy kill if Rahgot stays down, but alas that isn't the case. As if sensing Hans drawing near, the undead mage levitates backwards before projecting more fire spells that stops the Prince's attempt immediately. Ahna herself receives a barrage of fireballs, deterring her only for a few seconds as she dodges before taking aim and let loose yet another arrow. The result of her shot is Rahgot once again losing its levitation. Unlike the arrows that the undead mage merely burned off its deteriorating body, this one stays and it omits an ominous glow, causing Rahgot to scream, clearly in agony. Seeing that this might be his final opportunity, Hans pushes forward and with the undead mage clearly blinded by the pain, Hans' delivers the killing bow, separating Rahgot's head from its shoulders with surprising ease. The ear-piercing scream stops almost immediately and is replaced by the sound of carcass hitting the charred snow. The severed head falls not too far away from the rest of the body, landing in a position where the face is looking upwards; the horizontal slits gazing at Hans, almost too ridiculous to know that such a bizarre design for a mask was giving him strife not too long ago.

"Incredible," both Miraak's sarcastic tone and the sound of his clapping is now the prominent sound taunting Hans, "even in his most weakened state, Rahgot proved to be an admirable opponent for the 13th Prince of the Southern Isles. What a revolting show of skill. I was slightly tempted to lend my assistance on behalf of your endeavor."

Hans wishes that more of Miraak's men joined the dead—especially the Orc who is shaking his head as if disappointed, as if Miraak's taunting isn't enough. Using his sword to keep himself up, Hans turns to face the Dragonborn with anger evident in his facial features. "Was that necessary?" with anger seething from every word, Hans continues. "I seem to have missed the part where I should be enjoying myself."

For those few moments, Hans set aside his fear of Miraak, completely against the idea of being used as a source of entertainment. But the moment Hans finished his outburst, the First Dragonborn's posture changes and when he takes his first few steps towards Hans, the Prince of the Southern Isles quickly regained that said fear. He can almost feel his heart beating out of his chest as Miraak is now standing in front of him.

"Times have changed in Tamriel," the Dragonborn speaks calmly, "and there are far too many things forgotten through the influence of change. Let me reiterate your purpose here, boy. You are to _learn_ the true meaning of power. You are to acquire true _power_. Some of these things you will learn are long forgotten magic. Some would make the most skilled mage of this era jealous of the capabilities you will possess. But to do that, _you must prove yourself_. You did not do so in the battle against the apparition of my former ally," Miraak gestures for Hans to turn around and he does without any qualms. "This time, consider it as a gift."

Whatever Miraak's words mean, Hans can't fully dwell on them for Rahgot's remains seems to be stirring; or at least, the mask is stirring. Thinking that the glow of the mask meant that it was about to cause mayhem once more, Hans prepares himself, convicted at the idea that he _will_ prove himself to gain true power. But something different occurs; unlike before where the mask shot itself in the air and started taking lives so that souls would be absorbed, the ominous headgear merely hovered in front of Hans in perfect head level with him—it's almost as if the mask itself was staring right at Hans. Then without warning, the magic keeping it afloat suddenly shot into the amulet hanging from Hans' neck. Unable to react even the slightest, the Southern Isles Prince finds himself trapped within the process as trails of energy danced themselves about him, like snakes slithering upon their prey, but less violent and more vibrant. The feeling isn't even relatively painful, but the fact that it is happening evokes a few cries of fear from Hans despite himself. It lasted a few seconds, or maybe even more, but to Hans, the event is as complicated as how he feels after; leaning on the weight of his blade, somehow Hans feels rejuvenated… stronger… _anew_. The mask however is the exact opposite. Decay quickly replaces the greenstone color and eventually Rahgot's mask disintegrates to ash altogether. Hans remains where he is, gawking at the remnants of the mask as the bitter cold wind takes it away.

"What… was that?" with a hint of uncertainty and a feeling of victory, Hans looks over his shoulder as he talks to Miraak.

"True power," the Dragonborn responds. "To be the Knight of the Snow Queen, you must be able to defeat the _Ebony Dragon_. To slay this dragon, you must have true power. Rahgot is one of the ten that can give them to you, provided you are able to best them in battle."

Glancing down on the amulet around his neck, Hans traces his gloved hand on it as it lets out a final glow before shifting back to its dull black tint. "Where do I find the others?" a confident smirk appears on Hans' lips as he turns to face Miraak completely.

* * *

While Elsa kept her distance, her eyes can't help but linger at Onyx's direction. Back straight, eyes forward, one hand on Arvak's reigns and the other resting on the hilt of his blade… one can be fooled that Onyx feels nothing. He is a cold, aggressive, and a dangerous entity. A person who seems to not give thought to the tragedy that just occurred. But Elsa is more than willing to gamble that Onyx is keeping a ruse; his actions reminds Elsa during her time of isolation. Her gloves were her armor, the closed door was the Masque, and the way he used the one thing he is obviously good at: his fighting ability, very much mirrors Elsa's head strong obligation to be Queen. She avoided giving Anna condolence because she was afraid of losing control especially when their parents died, so her grooming to be Queen became a priority; it became her duty above _everything_ else. But behind those doors, when the gloves came off, and when the studies ended, Elsa found herself in the corner of her room every night, crying. Her knees to her chest and she cried and cried… the room became colder and colder. As the years rolled by, and as Anna's knocking on her door became less frequent, Elsa often craved to hear that her sister still cared. Every time she heard her name escape Anna's lips from the echoes of their castle halls, she smiled inside despite the burden of isolation. While Elsa could just very well be trying to find some kind of relation to her _only_ ally at the moment, something about Onyx's demeanor truly does remind her of her former self. The isolated Queen of Arendelle and the abrasive Dragonborn could very well have more things in common than both Elsa and Onyx would like to admit. Sighing with that thought, Elsa nudges Frost to ride a little closer; the white horse seems to not fear the purple flames coming out of Onyx's mount.

"Whiterun," her voice slightly squeaks after a long duration of riding in silence, "do you have a home in this place as well?" As Elsa expected, Onyx says nothing. He doesn't even acknowledge her. True, the Dragonborn hasn't exactly been the friendliest but he was engaging with her—and while nonsensical insults isn't high on Elsa's list of interaction, at least it was something. In fact, Elsa felt that the last few days, there has been some kind of change; grieving can cause a lot of things and its apparent that regressing to dead cold silence is Onyx's way of dealing with things. An act of isolating himself; something far too familiar. "Is that Whiterun?" the structure aheads caught Elsa's eyes not too long ago. Obvious by the shapes that they are indeed some kind of man-made building—maybe Elsa is hoping that it is their destination since the outdoors of Skyrim, despite it being broad daylight, still frightens her because of the possible danger around the corner, or maybe she is adamant about getting Onyx to talk, thus why she inquired. The idea of starting a conversation with him might be putting herself at risk for another rounds of hostility, but somehow that sounds more comforting than the possibility of the voice insider her head to start taunting her again, reminding her of the tragedy of Senna and her guards' death.

"Mead does not sound like a terrible idea," luckily Onyx responds not too long after. "I could use a few rounds of it, actually. But to answer your question, no. That is where some of the most overrated mead in Skyrim is brewed. Whiterun, however, isn't too far away," though his voice is still cold, he does make the effort to speak back and gestures to the right, towards the image of another city behind castle walls. Elsa took note of it the moment it was in her view some time ago and part of her wanted to guess that their destination, Whiterun, was another kingdom like Solitude (though much smaller). Instead of actually stating her assumption, she decided to try and break the silence; again jumping into the danger of another verbal tussle. Luckily she just received Onyx's cold shoulder. Despite another failure for a conversation, the sight of their destination does bring Elsa some kind of comfort. Riding for so long has never been high on her list to consider as enjoyable. Neither is drinking one's sorrow away.

"Losing one's sobriety would be a terrible idea and I hardly doubt that it should be something you should do for a long while," Elsa finally decides to take heed to Onyx's previous statement.

"Please don't lecture me," the response from the Dragonborn is immediate, defensive, and nothing short of aggression.

"I'm not lecturing. I'm merely trying to express my concern," from there Elsa decides to say nothing. The fact that all of her attempts to turn their rapport to something cordial hasn't been successful and Elsa is starting to feel as if she should just _give up_. Once again silence becomes her company and the sound of hooves hitting the ground is the only thing that Elsa seems to focus her attention on. That is of course until Onyx commands Arvak to stop, which in turn causes Elsa to follow his action.

"This is exactly what I did not need," and it seems that Onyx is adamant about continuing the argument even after Elsa dropped it. She truly does regret trying to start a conversation with him—she can't seem to get away from the taunting of her mysterious reflection in her head or trading verbal assaults with her only ally in the world of Skyrim; by now Elsa surmises that silence _is _a better company.

"Very well. I'll abstain from talking to you if that is what you wish."

Elsa meant the words. Perhaps if some things could go right for once, Whiterun would be the place where Onyx would be able to gain footing on sending her back to Arendelle… however that said deed can be accomplished. Elsa knows from experience that one has to grieve their own way and someone trying to barge their way in doesn't help the process one bit. Only time can offer the remedy. Time and a whole lot of serenity; the latter seems to be an elusive concept as of late. They have company on the other side of the bridge and judging from the way Onyx slides off Arvak, something else seems to want to add more strife to an already distorted day.

"A bit early in the day for _wolves_ to be prowling about, is it not?" Elsa pays close attention the way Onyx's hand is truly dedicated to the hilt of his blade. As if the tone of his voice wasn't enough to tell her that the distant strangers aren't exactly the friendly type. From what her eyes can make out, the three strangers are armed and approaching in an aggressive manner.

"We meant what we said in the message, Onyx! You are not welcome here!" a woman responds among them and it's more than clear to Elsa that this is not going to be a matter that is going to be resolved peacefully.

**To Be Continued.**


	20. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen IX

I respect Balgruuf. The Nord has kept his composure throughout the events of the Alduin's return, maintained Whiterun as one of the neutral ground during the times of the Civil War, and he has always been more than cordial with me. He has qualms with the way I have done things and has openly stated that he detests what I have chosen to be—but beyond that he remained where he is as long as I did not bring trouble to his doorstep. Balgruuf is a reason why I try to steer away from Whiterun but Kodlaks _is_ the reason why I want Whiterun to be free of my presence; I lost much of the man he used to respect. Despite everything and regardless of how much I may be distorted, I always try to find it in me to uphold his legacy. Kodlak was an honorable man; that much is certain. Quite a shame that the new Harbinger of the Companions can't be half the man Kodlak was. Then again, what do you expect from one who calls herself 'the huntress'?

"I will not repeat myself again, Onyx!"

My eyes narrow in sheer anger. There are a dozen things that are causing my agitation to be beyond my control. I could complain at the sun blaring at me. I could say that I thirst and I am in need of replenishment after the previous battle. I could blame it on Elsa's ignorance. I could say a lot of things but the fact is that Senna's death is the heaviest burden to bear at the moment. Vengeance is in my every thought and so this is pushing me to my limits. My respect for Kodlak might be tested today.

"Get out of my way, Aela," she has her bow and both Farkas and Vilkas had long prepared their blades before I stepped off Arvak. To accompany my demand, I unsheathe Muramasa, letting them know that I am not here for verbal folly.

"You lied to us! That damn cat nearly ruined the name of the Companions!"

"Words won't solve this, Aela. We'll have to resort to something he understands," the humor in the moment is that Vilkas is supposed to be the intelligent one, but now he is the first to point his blade at me before Farkas.

"I'm not going to say it again," I elaborate, taking a few steps forward. "_Get out of my **way**_."

"You'll have to go through me first."

"Farkas, wait!"

"I put my trust on him first, brother. It's only right that I'm the one to deliver the message of how angered we are with his betrayal!"

I retract my statement about Vilkas showing less thought than his twin brother. With Farkas crossing the bridge to the side where Elsa and I are on with the obvious intent on having a one on one combat, I do believe that Farkas still remains to be the more asinine one when comparing the two. I intend to make him remember that.

"Keep an eye on that one," I hear Aela say, readying her bow. I can surmise that while they are more than aware of how this might turn out for their shield brother, they are also on the look out for my foreign companion. I'm sure they're not exactly sure what she is or what role she plays in this. I would imagine that Elsa can manage for a little while—she'll have to because Farkas makes his first move. Though I believe she did call out my name and uttering her usual political words; one that neither Farkas nor myself paid any attention to.

"For Kodlak! For the honor of the Companions!"

I had every intention of retaliating with force but the audacity of such battle cry… with a deeper stance and the grip on Muramasa taut, I lunge forward, meeting the Nord with the same fury. My blade and his collide before I have to shuffle backwards due to his strength pushing through. Completely driven by rage, he follows up with his shield, swinging it forward, forcing me to be on the defense to avoid a bashing and of course to avoid another slash from his sword. While Farkas fights with aggression, he is _too careless_ to prove affectively against my sense of urgency in this matter. But he does come with his merits. The Companions are one of the best fighters in Skyrim; they handle some of the worse and have survived. Farkas retains that reputation and he is no ordinary thug. As well as he can manage to use a blade on one hand, it's the way he is wielding the shield both defensively and offensively is what matters. Not a common usage and for that I can give him the caution he deserves; but after a few times of testing the waters, I have gathered what I needed: he uses both weapons with far too much force as if he is still using a two handed blade. Too much effort, and perhaps that is the result of him drunk in rage. Regardless…

I counter his next strike, causing him to defend. From there I do not relent, forcing the Companion to change his tactics, giving him little room to attack. When he does find the opening, I am merely trying to find the proper window—looking for the right moment to—_there_! After deflecting his blade, Farkas once again attempted to use his shield as a means; but that was what I was baiting for. After punching with his shield arm, I quickly step inside his centerline, evading the attack. The gamble is great and I am in range for his sword arm. The move itself would be considered poorly planned if it wasn't for the fact that for a moment the flaw of his armor is completely open and the range is mine. I slash, the tip of Muramasa cutting inside his left arm where the armor does not protect. The reaction is immediate and Farkas growls in pain, giving me the moment to kick him away, forcing him to stumble backwards. The man is used to beatings through the countless fights he has been in but something as vital of an attack as that will force his shield arm to drop uselessly. Proper restoration is needed and he knows it. Trying not to show his injury, Farkas preserves his stance; his right arm holding his blade, while his other arm trying fervidly to raise his shield to a more useful position.

"Stay where you are!" from the corner of my eye, I watch as Aela points her arrow at Elsa. The idiot Snow Queen moved in a way that irked the Huntress. "Do _not _move!"

Elsa complies, putting her open palms up to head level to show that she bears no hostile thoughts. If Aela only knows the magic Elsa possesses. "Will you not stop this? Surely you know the outcome! It will not bode well for your ally!" Elsa yells back at Aela, clearly adding more salt to the wound. I could say that I should feel some kind of victory that Elsa is more than confident in my abilities. Then again, she has stated more than once that my ability to maneuver with blade in hand is as impressive as it is terrifying. Still, her need to constantly detest battle when she herself has more than enough reasons to spill blood is rather annoying.

"Farkas," his twin brother calls out.

"No! None of you dare!" growling as if he is in werewolf form, Farkas continues to glare at me. A look that is fuming with hate—the one thing that is probably giving him the endurance to even fight off the pain in his left arm. Add that in to the hits he has taken, he is in bad shape, but he is a Nord… he is a Companion. He is the bigger idiot between Vilkas and him. "This cur is mine!"

At this moment, I could consider him the biggest fool of the Companions. "Your wound continues to plague your tactics. _This is my last warning_, stand down. You have lost this battle."

"You will have to kill me first!"

He yelled that statement as he struggles to keep his shield up. Sighing, I reaffirm my grip on Muramasa, bearing the crimson Akaviri blade with both hands. With a blink of an eye, I charge forward, with both hands positioning my sword to my right, I prepare. Farkas, in his condition still manages a reaction, a weak one, but an attempt nonetheless to deter my attack. The shield of Ysgramor is made out of an archaic material, one that is unable to yield to any of Muramasa's attempt, which is why Farkas used it effectively both as a weapon and as a shield. Though it is more of a decoration now, which is why he is trying to compensate by using his sword _as a shield_. But Muramasa cuts through it—causing the blade to be reduced to half of its former self. The look in his face in that one moment… the shock… and before he is able to even swallow the realization, I bring my blade back, slashing in the same horizontal motion, opposite of its former path, aimed at Farkas' face. The moment of impact met no resistance and the Companion falls to the ground immediately after.

"BROTHER!"

"NO!"

Aela fires her arrow and the intended target would be my head—an act of retribution for her fallen comrade, no doubt. Fortunately I do not have to move a muscle; a blast of frost magic steers the said arrow from its path. I give Elsa a small acknowledgement as I watch Farkas as he slowly gets to his feet, scowling at my direction as he rubs his cheek. He'll have a mark and agony for a while, that much is certain.

"Farkas, he didn't..." Farkas reciprocates Vilkas' look of astonishment. The realization of having only been struck by the dull side of Muramasa definitely had more than physical aftermath.

"Why? Why didn't you…?"

"For Kodlak. Because no matter how idiotic his wolves have become, I still honor him," I sheathe Muramasa and signal Elsa to follow. There is a part of me that wishes that things would just end where it is but I know that it won't. The fact that Farkas is still trying to stand his ground is a testament to that. In fact, my words and act of mercy most likely did nothing to alleviate some of the rage that has been fuming within the Companions.

"How dare you let his name come out of your mouth!" as I said, I knew it could have not been that easy. It might be harder than I would like with Farkas' words and stance is getting a bit too aggressive. "Kodlak trusted you like we did! He honored you! Spoke highly of you! Even spoke of you being Harbinger one day!"

"Farkas, please, this is not—"

"No, Vil! This is the time!" I glance at Vilkas and Aela who seem to give their shield brother most of their attention than me. Most of their angered expressions are now overshadowed by the look of concern. The more Farkas lets his rage continue, the more _it_ will be possible. They make a few cautious steps towards him, still aware that Elsa and I are in between Farkas and them. "We trusted him! Kodlak trusted him! We gave him our honor! Our secrets! We offered him a place in our circle! And what did he do? WHAT did he do?"

"Please Farkas, calm down."

"Listen to your Harbinger, Farkas," I chime in after Aela, "I neither have the time or the patience for this."

"Damn you! Damn the sick twisted humor of the Divines for giving someone like you the soul of the Dragon! Damn you!" the last curse sounded inhuman—it sounded like a growl. "Damn _you_!"

Farkas used to be a man with very little words, but apparently, whatever J'udas did truly broke down the what was once a stoic man that stands in front of me. Judging by his stance, the way his eyes are narrowed and letting off a ghastly glow, he will succumb to his bestial form… an endeavor so foolish because we are in broad daylight.

"Aela, we must stop him _now_."

"Dragonborn, we will continue this another time."

I am more than happy to agree with Aela's words since Farkas is now far from my reason. But I doubt even they can calm him down. Despite being the strongest one, Farkas' reaction when calling upon Hircine's gift is less than convenient in the past. In other words, he is volatile when he is a werewolf. With my temperament a bit off, I do not think I have it in me to let him walk away if the beast in him attacks. At this case, things might just head that way.

"Onyx, what's happening?" of all the things Elsa has seen in Skyrim, I wonder how she will react to a man turning into a werewolf? Or maybe Arendelle is familiar with the tale of men turning into beasts. Doubtful.

Aela and Vilkas have made their way across the bridge and are trying to slowly make their way towards Farkas, who is now getting lost on his own rage. With the said bridge cleared, Whiterun is straight ahead, but as for it being a smooth task of riding our horses there, that is not going to happen. I urge Elsa on, grabbing her by the arm as I signal Frost to come to us. Though the white horse would not comply—he continues to stand on his hind legs, letting off strange sounds of fear since he can sense it. Judging by Elsa's mortified expression, I am well aware that one will not be able to walk away from this.

"Brother, _hold it back_!"

What follows after Vilkas' imploring is the earsplitting sound of a werewolf taking full shape. Pushing Elsa towards the bridge, I grab Avarice from its holster and load a bolt in, hoping that I can get the clear shot I need. With Vilkas shoved to the ground, there was nothing to stop Farkas from charging towards me. The ill-omened sight of a werewolf lunging with such ferocity is all too familiar; not something I enjoy dealing with. Though killing them is not as difficult as the commoners would make anyone believe. They may be frighteningly dangerous to some, but they are no Dragons. Aiming my crossbow, a single shot will be all I need to slow him down—if I am anywhere as good of an archer as Gwil, Karliah, or even Aela for that matter, I am more than certain that it could be a kill shot. But slowing him down is my main purpose so a bolt between the eyes would be….

As I was too focused on Farkas, Aela's act of releasing her arrow barely caught my attention. I manage to dodge out of the way, but not without taking some of the intent: the point of the arrow grazing across my armguard; clearly she was trying to render my hand useless. The thought of retaliation against the Huntress is barely formed, however. The fact that Farkas is now upon me, claws reaching out and its jaws stretched for its killing bite, it seems that my options are reduced to taking the beast on up close—the more dangerous and foolish way to deal with an opponent meant to inflict havoc up close. As I prepare myself for the inevitable clash with the Lycan, I find myself astonished as the beast's attack is deterred by ice-formed spheres, which shattered the moment it strikes Farkas, but not without causing the werewolf to fall back. I turn to Elsa for a moment as she stands there with eyes glowing, hands extended and letting out a ferocious show of ice magic swirling about. Then with reaction that is surprisingly fast, she shoots a beam of frost magic at Aela, causing her to drop her bow, and with her other hand, Elsa engulfs Farkas with her powers, imprisoning the werewolf in an ice like cocoon, leaving only his head free. I take a few moments too many staring at Elsa. Gawking is more like the word to describe it… for a woman who hates violence, she is _too_ talented for it and her powers responds in a way that very few mages in Tamriel can make their powers do; and even those mages who are capable of such feat are renowned masters. She's shown this side of her more than once and I know that she despises it. As her eyes linger at my direction, I can't help but continue to stare at her dumbfounded. I had the urge to say something… not sure what, but whatever would have came out of my mouth, it no longer mattered. The moment is shattered by the sound of Farkas' anger reaching new heights. Letting out a howl, the ice that imprisons him starts to crack, and within moments, Farkas frees himself. Angrier than ever, the werewolf snarls at its prey and pushes off its mighty legs. Cursing under my masque, I shoot, missing him entirely, which forces me to roll out of his way to avoid getting trampled over. His prey at the moment is clearly not me; the Snow Queen is. With Elsa just a few seconds away from the Lycan's reach, I quickly get to my feet to aid her since I am unsure if she can ultimately stop the beast when it is in full savagery.

"_Wuld," _the word propels me forward, "_Nah_," the second allows me to run side by side with Farkas, "_Kest!_" changing my direction with the third word, I collide with the werewolf with such a force that it causes us to take a tumble over the bridge and into the shallow waters below. As if the landing was not enough to inflict a momentary daze, the rapids of White River carries the two of us into lower grounds, hitting a few jagged rocks on the way, and landing somewhat awkwardly. The moment I am able to gain my footing, I immediately try to grab my blade but Farkas was already on the attack and his great size lands on top of me with his jaws snapping at my head, giving me very little time for reprieve. With his giant clawed hand pushing me down, I won't be able to evade his attacks for too much longer. Case in point, his jaws come at me and my only defense is to put my left arm between us. Of course the result would be undeniable pain as his fangs pierces skin between the weakness in my armor. Luckily the full strength of his jaws has not punctured through the ebony plating, but soon enough he will—that is if he does not tear my arm off. There is only one _efficient_ option for this… "_Gol Hah_!"

To bend someone's will is a task that requires the most out of me. It is one of the few words of power that do not exactly work its best when I use it, but fortunately, I can easily thwart the mindset of those who are acting mostly on instinct, or beings that are too corrupted with emotions to fight off the Thu'um. Having taken the full force of the voice, Farkas immediately felt the spell course through him and he fights it for a few moments, stumbling back a few steps, growling as he clutches his head. Even if he does manage to ward off his will being controlled, at least he is no longer on me with his jaws grinding at my flesh. Though damage has been done and I can feel the agony of the wound he had inflicted on my left forearm. As I stand on my feet, I pull Muramasa out and take a few slow steps through the knee high waters towards Farkas who is now completely taken over by the Thu'um, standing still like a statue and with a blank expression on his feral visage. Lifting my blade up, I point the sharp end at the beast, angling it upward so that it may be directed at the vital target. A simple stab through his throat is all I would need. Even a beast who towers over me by almost twice my height would fall from such a fatal and unguarded blow.

"Onyx, stop!" from behind me, Vilkas comes splashing through the river; his long sword in his hands, waiting to use it in the event I do not take heed to his demand. Running to his side, Aela stands ready as well. Her bow might be rendered useless from Elsa's attack, thus why she is resorting to her short sword and shield.

"What have you done to him?" the things that Aela and her Companions do not know about me. I am willing to gamble that they do not even comprehend half of the Thu'um I possess or the powers at my grasp as a Vampire Lord. Still, the two of them keep their distance for the simple fact that they know that killing an opponent for less compared to what Farkas has done is not out of my character. For that I continue to point my blade at their shield brother. "Onyx, if you harm—"

"Or what? You will send all of the Companions after me? Doing so requires you to tell them the truth about the Circle. Are you going to Notify Balgruuf that I killed a werewolf who was once Farkas so that the Jarl might put a bounty on my head?" feeling a cold gust of wind, I conclude that Elsa is running to my side, freezing some of the water in the process. Both Companions pay her mind, shocked at either the display of unique frost magic or the fact that she just altered her dress.

"Onyx, are your injuries bad?" my posture shifts and I exchange glances with her. Elsa seems terribly worried; her hands fidgeting towards the arm that Farkas mauled. And I would have given Elsa's tending to me more thought but Vilkas' movement towards us causes me to sternly push Muramasa towards the werewolf's throat; not piercing skin just yet.

"I should have killed him," I state venomously, glaring at the Nords with anger, "I should kill the lot of you, but I won't."

They stop for a moment. Apprehensive and very much well aware of the situation so Aela uses her words carefully. "Then if you are telling the truth, release him from the spell."

For people who want their brother unharmed, they sure are stubborn about pointing their weapons at me. With a quick gesture from me, both Companions reluctantly comply, sheathing their blades and awaiting for my response impatiently. With a spiteful grin, I speak to the werewolf whose will is still bent to my own desire. "Run, Farkas," I tell him in a tone enough for everyone to hear, "run away and _never_ return." Not a moment after I uttered my last word, the Lycan obeys, pushing off and running on all fours across the waters and heading west as soon as he gets to the plains.

"What have you _done_?"

"It's not what I have done that you should fret about, Vilkas. It's about what someone else will do," both Aela and Vilkas glare at me with the obvious intent of wanting to pull their weapons out. I on the other hand just sheathed Muramasa as I pay their anger very little mind. "Better go after him. The guards will see him and might make an attempt to shoot him down, but the biggest worry is if he manages to get to the Reach. Forsworn will definitely see him as Hircine's challenge."

Letting out a very hateful growl himself, Vilkas runs after his twin. Aela gives me one final glare before shouting to Vilkas about grabbing her horse but I have something in mind before I let the Huntress go. Without so much of a warning, I walk over to Aela with speed concurring with my fury. The moment she realizes I'm close, it's too late and she meets my fist across her face, sending her on the ground, causing water to fly up from such a force.

"Onyx, stop!" I can feel how cold Elsa's hands are as she stands between the prone Aela and myself; her hands on my cuirass, pushing me back with what little might she can muster. "That was not necessary!"

I acknowledge Elsa, but I want to get my point across to the Companions' Harbinger. "That was twice you shot me, Aela. The third time that happens, you better hope you take my life. I'm going to spare you today because of Kodlak. But let me say that me honoring him does not mean I will allow anymore stupidity from you! From _any_ of you!"

Aela remains lying on her side, half her body in the water, half not. She is obviously nursing her jaw, which took the blunt of my fist. Blood coming out of her mouth as she frequently spits after rubbing her jaw here and there. Eventually she manages to turn to me with a glare that insinuates that part of her wants to give in to her bestial form. "You have so much pride to bring up Kodlak considering what you have done."

"And what have I done?"

"Onyx, please," I remain obstinate and by now Elsa is merely just keeping herself in between Aela and I just in case.

"Don't act stupid! There are rumors about your allegiance with the Dark Brotherhood! Rumors that are too real to be considered as mere aspersions! Then what of the Volkihar Clan? Did sharing beds with the Lady of Volkihar gave you enough incentive to help them destroy the Dawnguard?" having fought off her disoriented condition, Aela gets to her feet. Her armor that can hardly be considered as armor is now drenched, especially the parts that are mostly fur.

"Rumors? Was not aware that the Companions took heed to such business."

"We make it our business when it endangers what we stand for! And did it slip your mind that J'udas was a thieving cat who wanted the Circle's gift for his own benefit? He had _no intention_ of honoring what was bestowed upon him!"

I sigh. I was neither aware nor cared about his intentions, but I quickly found out from the Nightingales that he was an ill type of fellow. "I left him under your supervision. You will have to excuse me that I was not there to watch him for you. I seem to be too busy with other things. Just like I was busy tending to Skyrim's Civil War. Do you remember that, Aela? I was gone and that's when Kodlak was murdered. It seems you are all incompetent without me _and_ against me."

A snarl erupts from Aela and I prepare myself. Though Elsa remains in between, putting her hand out towards the Huntress as she keeps her weight on me, trying to push me back. "The damage is done! Please, let us stop the useless violence." While most of her attention is on Aela, I can tell that Elsa's words are more directed towards me.

"Woman, whoever you may be, this cur is nothing but a—"

"He is complicated, I know. But let us not make this more complicating than it already has been," and there Elsa is, using her speechcraft so well. "Please, we all have more important matters to attend to."

For all the rage Aela is letting out, she does hear Elsa's words. Sighing out of exasperation, Aela wipes more blood from her mouth and starts to back away. "For Kodlak," she aimed that at me before staring at Elsa one more time. "He will get you killed. Stay away from him."

And with those words, Aela makes her way towards the direction Vilkas went. From the sound of a horse neighing, the Huntress is well on her way hunting her entranced companion. Good for it. A moment more of exchanging words and I might had resorted to more bloodshed. Letting out a breath of relief, Elsa leans her full weight on me with her hands and head resting on my chest. I give her a perplexed look, tilting my head and trying to study her. Perhaps the battle has made her ill that she would nonchalantly lean her weight on me in such a… manner…?

"Werewolves," she mumbles, "of course werewolves are real here."

Well, that answers my question about Elsa knowing something about Lycanthropy. "We should go. Too much time has been wasted," that and I am not exactly fond of being out in open daylight.

"I agree," lifting her head up, we exchange glances for a few moments, which forces me to inadvertently study her harried and yet concerned expression. When she finally pulls away from staring at me, Elsa immediately tends to my injured arm, causing me to flinch in an agitated manner. A simple touch definitely adds more agony than I need to deal with right now. "Sorry, I did not mean to…."

"It's fine. Let's go."

I make my way out the waters, adamant at the idea of getting out of the outdoors as soon as possible—or at the very least get some nourishment. There is only one way to do that now. My stock of blood was destroyed along with Heljarchen Hall. The basement was raided with all valuable weapons, armors, soul gems, potions, materials, and anything not of value was discarded. Clearly blood potions were deemed useless or it was perhaps more useful if they were destroyed. I swear on Azura that I will inflict tremendous pain on these people; for Senna and for the discomfort they are putting me through.

"Onyx, I truly believe that your arm needs attention as soon as we find a proper healer."

I urge Frost towards Elsa as soon as he reaches me. "Speaking of attention. Please revert back to your more suitable attire."

"That is your main concern at the moment?"

"My main concern is to _not_ draw anymore attention to us. I think we have enough to deal with."

"Do you have anymore enemies in Whiterun?"

I would take it as a valid question and there was no humor in Elsa's tone. Still, I'm not exactly too enthused with the nature of the question. "Just do it."

After my demand, I hear Elsa's powers work their magic. While it is fascinating, I don't dally about and watch as she alters her wardrobe. I still wonder what is the purpose of doing so in the first place? My theory is that it is her way of heightening her resistance to attacks. Though unlike most alteration spells I have seen, I cannot see the use of altering one's apparel completely… nor do I see the protection against swords or spells. Though strange enough, Drelas' destruction spells did _nothing_ to scratch her. Come to think of it, her effectiveness within the last few hours has been impressive; almost as if she is truly a master of her own art. Not to mention, she had the capability to kill Farkas and Aela if she wanted to. But Elsa remains to be the most baffling person I have met; she was threatened and she was still grasping on the idea of a peaceful outcome… I suppose in some ways it did reach a peaceful outcome. Though the burning sensation on my hand and my aching body says otherwise. So in that regard, Elsa is right: I need to tend to my arm as soon as possible. So as we make our way to Whiterun, I can only hope that Saadia is within those walls… only she can aid me now.

* * *

The staring started when we passed the farms. Dropping Frost at the stables also had its fair shares of eyes fixed at our direction. What I would give to just be recognized as a sword for hire guarding a noblewoman, but who am I trying to fool? The nickname 'Ebony Dragon' sticks because everyone in Skyrim knows that the Legendary Dragonborn is a warrior that wears Ebony armor. Need I mention that there is a good handful of people who knows about the Masque I am wearing? And even if they do not know of its origins, it is a pretty distinguishable helmet. So on a good day or a bad, there is no hiding my identity to the public. Suffice to say, the moment I walk into Whiterun territory, the guards tense up, showing a bit more care in their watchtowers. The long walk to Whiterun's door is an odd and almost thick air of uncertainty; reaching the door, the guard who greets me does not alleviate any of the ambiance.

"The Jarl would like to see you, Dragonborn," he immediately states; he had courage in his voice but his stance is letting off that he feels intimidated. He slightly fumbles as he aids his fellow guardsman open the door as well.

I nod at him, giving him no verbal response, though Elsa thanks him and from that point on, his attention is fixed at the foreign monarch who is exuding the friendliest mannerisms. I have to say, I have gotten somewhat used to her. Days and even nights of being around her can do that; still, I do find it rather annoying and somewhat odd at times. I can imagine what that guard is thinking—or for this matter, what everyone who catches sight of her is thinking. Whiterun at this time is lively and the people are about so there are more than enough set of eyes to notice Elsa and my presence, much to my disdain. While it has been some time since I visited this place, I will always be more than familiar with the Plain District's rather busy atmosphere. It hasn't changed much and the people within are still doing the things most Nords in Skyrim would be doing at this time: the civilians are walking about discussing nonsensical rumors or possible contracts for a mercenary, children are chasing each other with their threats and makeshift weapons, and the shopkeepers are doing what they can to keep their business fruitful. Just the sound of hammer hitting metal proves that idea; each strike loud enough to almost drown out the sound of the water running through Whitetrun's entrance.

"Follow me, and please…"

With narrowed eyes, Elsa responds without me finishing my words. "I am aware."

I am not as convinced as I would want to be due to the experience of Elsa's reaction to things that are all too new. Still, she has shown some progress, not getting bewildered at every Khajiit or every sound of Dragons shouting from the distance. Still, it is rather fortunate that the chances of running into an Argonian here are rather low compared to Solitude. Though I can imagine Molag-Bal must let out a squeal every time Elsa reacts to a native of the Black Marsh. But Whiterun is after all _the most_ Nordic city in Skyrim. Which means that there are little to no Mer or Beast-folks here. The housecarl of Balgruuf and I make up _most_ of the Mer population as it is unless things drastically changed during the time of my absence. Though that doesn't mean that the locals of Whiterun do not give Elsa their curious eyes. Just barely passing by my old home, more than enough guards give her a second take. The children gawk at her—the little girls awing at her fancy cloak dragging behind her. And the men? Some of their reactions evoke an inward chuckle or two from me. Have to admit, Elsa is easy on the eyes, so that part I can understand, but the moment she starts speaking…. Well, her voice isn't exactly something I would consider annoying. It's what she says. In some ways, she and Senna have so much in common… or HAD so much in common. I clench my fists despite the pain and keep walking forward; of course knowing that Senna is truly gone and I could not do anything about it infuriates me. The folks at the market place take heed of my anger and move out of the way rather quickly before going about their curiosity for the Snow Queen.

"A few drinks," and of course there's that mage that still frolics in the entrance of the Bannered Mare; my current destination, "a few laughs, and a contest. What could be better?" There he goes again directing his challenge towards my direction. "So how about it, Dragonborn? Just a moment to take a night off from your duties?"

While this man whom I came to know as Sam posses no threat, he does seem a bit off. I am not entirely sure how to explain it but he has a similar presence to him, almost as if I have met him before. There were times when I tried to explore that feeling, but his constant need to challenge me to a drinking contest strikes me odd. While I am not one to refuse a friendly competition, there is always that feeling that tells me to decline his offer despite his rather pushy attitude. Today would have been the day where I might have ran my fist into his face—probably a good thing so I can drive him into sobriety. But something changes the moment he looks past me—or should I say, the moment his eyes catches the sight of Elsa.

"Well, this is interesting," Sam's elongated shaped face usually highlights the arrogant expression of the whole 'I can outdrink you' type look. Though something about Elsa changes all of that. It's almost as if he is sober and he is actually using his ability to think quite seriously. "Who is this, Dragonborn?"

"An Atmoran Queen," I answer tersely and sarcastically, glaring at him through my masque, annoyed at his need to delve into my business.

"Oh?" I swear I saw his blue eyes shift colors as an unnerving grin forms on his face. "Really? We don't get _very_ many of those," as if deep in thought, Sam rubs his chin, playing with the stubs of facial hair. "What royal business do you have here, your Majesty?"

"I—"

"To bring better drinks in Skyrim," I interrupt Elsa immediately, forcing Sam to focus his attention on me. "The ones here are tasteless and only exist to force one to lose his mind. Now please, step aside form the door. She needs a moment to sit and relax."

I'm not sure how Sam took that sarcasm, but with his grin growing wider, it seems he is more than willing to play along with my agitated humor. "You're right, my apologies. But you should get your wound treated as soon as you are done inside. I think you'll need to be your _very_ best if you continue to travel with this _beautiful _Queen."

There was something about the way he said those words that piqued my interest. It was almost a foreboding message and it strikes me odd that he would be so keen to my current state. I had the urge to interrogate him, but I decide that it was probably best that I just let him walk away to go about his business so that Elsa and I can go about ours. Giving Elsa a final bow as he walks pass her, Sam ventures off towards the Plain District, each time he takes a step down he seems to be filled with jubilance. Eventually he is barely in sight as he disappears in the distance. Hopefully he exited Whiterun and would get mauled by the next saber cat.

"Odd and strangely…" Elsa pauses midsentence as she turns her head towards me again. There seems to be a thought in her head that she is trying to form into words. "… he seems rather competent."

I huff before turning my back on her as I grab the door. I dare not entertain whatever that drunk has to offer—but part of me truly feels that there is more to him than meets the eye. Pushing the door open, I enter the Bannered Mare and Elsa follows not too long after me.

"Welcome! Let me know if—" Hulda, the barkeep, immediately stops herself out of shock, staring at me in disbelief. Ysolda who is standing with her behind the bar gawks with her; the latter must be part of the business now. "Dragonborn."

"I hope you managed to find some clean mugs by now," I tell her, which of course makes Hulda respond with a rather unimpressed glare before whispering something to Ysolda. Both Nord women simply not making an effort to be discreet about their trade of words; probably more rumors to exalt. I pay them very little attention as Elsa and I get further in, which by now the rest of the folks in the tavern are all staring. While I'd like to say that most people are surprised to see me again (the Companions have probably made it known that I am not welcome in Whiterun; least the lower and vocal members anyways), my current follower is probably the bigger shock value. Clothing, looks, her posture… whatever it may be, they stare. Some try not to be obvious, others just blatantly gawp. Elsa acknowledges the attention; at times she gives a slight bow as if showing her manners. Passing by the center of the main room where two sword for hires and a Nord bard are sitting down continuing to stare, I lead Elsa to the private kitchen to the left where the person I needed to see is tending to her work, unaware of our company. "I hope you are not too busy," I speak in a low tone but it was enough to startle Saadia.

"Onyx!" Saadia says in a gasp after turning around abruptly with her right hand already armed with her dagger.

"After all these years," I make a small head motion towards the dagger, "still watching your back."

The Redguard slowly retracts her weapon before making an effort to push the strands of black hair out of her face. Her hair has gotten longer, obvious by the fact that she is able to put most of it in a clean ponytail. "You can never be too careful, Onyx. You of all people should know that."

"Oh I'm not at all admonishing you for being quick to have a blade in your hand. I'm merely stating the fact that after all these years, you still jump at the sound of my voice."

"Things can never be too simple. It's also the issue that sometimes, I forget what your intentions are," for a moment Saadia glances behind me, trying to get a good look at the shorter blonde woman.

"Here," I toss her a bottle, "I need something from you."

The moment she caught it, Saadia studies it before carefully opening it to take a small sniff of the content inside. She's not an expert alchemist, but she is educated at certain things. "I see," closing the bottle, she stares at me again, "is this stronger than the last one you gave me?"

"Obviously the one before worked."

"I was in bed for almost two days," and what does she expect? A direct bite from a Vampire Lord has harsher ramifications against disease potions. I don't have time to explain that; I _don't_ have patience to explain that.

"A dog, a _very_ large one bit me," I say those words with as much vehemence as I can so I can let the weight sink in, "I need your services. Will you provide it?" I was blunt and forward and Saadia's agitation is quite obvious with the way she furrows her brows. Though with a deep breath, the Redguard noblewoman eventually tries to fake a smile and gestures for me to come forward. Though as quick as she changes her mind to help me, Saadia is once again on her ambivalence the moment she sees Elsa following. "Her name is Queen Elsa of Arendelle. She's with me. She will not endanger anything you are trying to hide," I keep my voice to a whisper as I speak, "that much I can assure you."

She gives Elsa one more look over before shaking her head at me again. "I put my trust on you once _in my time of need. _You've changed so much since then, but I'm going to put my neck out for you again. Don't make me regret it."

Those words reassure me that I made the right choice by not turning her in to Kematu and his gang of Alik'r warriors. I wasn't about to leave Elsa unattended. And no, it's not because I did not think she could handle herself… it's just that in this moment, I don't think it's appropriate to let her out of my sight. She's gone through too much—I'm afraid as much as it confuses me, I do believe I am her _only_ source of comfort; strangely enough, she is the only one for me as well at this given moment.

**To Be Continued.**


	21. Elsa: In My Time Of Need

_"I put my trust on you once in my time of need. You've changed so much since then…"_

Those words seem to have made more of an impact on Elsa than she thought it would. She heard it the first time Saadia said it, but waiting in silence gave Elsa too much time to really _hear it_. Squirming uncomfortably in her chair, Elsa takes a deep breath, pushing her braid to the side as she leans forward to speak.

"So, Saadia is…?"

"A friend," Onyx barely changes his posture, leaning heavily on the wall as he cuts Elsa off.

"A friend, of course," Elsa takes a deep breath before continuing. "And I take it she is no commoner?"

It was easy for Elsa to see that Saadia had some quirks that are distinguishable as highborn mannerism. While cultures _differ greatly_ between this world and the one Elsa came from, there are still far too many similarities. Just being around Solitude, speaking with Elisif and interacting with the commoners, Elsa can clearly see a familiar world where Highborns and commoners act and present themselves quite differently. For Saadia's case, her posture and the overall ambiance she lets out gives Elsa the impression that she is more than what she is. And it's not just common confidence either; Elsa has been around far too many nobles to know the difference between the two. She has been curious about it the moment she noticed it about Saadia.

"You may want to keep that to yourself," Onyx responds tartly as he wiggles the fingers of his injured arm, "I need Saadia to like me long enough for her to help me."

Of course Elsa gets her answer in that tone. When Saadia stated 'You've changed so much since then', Elsa is inclined to believe that Onyx wasn't always this rude. He couldn't be. He seems to hold enough respect of the people for them to look up to him—or maybe it's not necessarily respect as much as it is reverence because of his power and the legend behind it, but part of her truly believes that he had accomplished deeds that truly adhere to the idea of a 'hero'. The boy they saved, Ennrk, seems to believe so and seeing how he treats children, he could very well have been a hero some time ago before he _changed_. Though more often than not, it's hard for Elsa to really hold on to the thought of his heroism especially when they enter a city and the first interaction they get are people drawing their swords and pointing them at him. Elsa can still feel the adrenaline of seeing a grown man change into a colossal werewolf—a creature told in books in her kingdom to scare children. Perhaps if he tried to be less uncouth he might have less people wanting his head off his shoulder. Or less mythical creatures trying to swallow him whole, for that matter.

"Very well. I shall mind my own business," Elsa finally tells him, deciding that it's best to abide by his words for now. And a good thing too since the door to this small room opens and Saadia enters. After locking the door behind her, she stares at Elsa before giving Onyx an apprehensive look.

"She will stay," the Dragonborn states, as if reading Saadia's mind.

"Are you sure of this, Onyx? Have you truly been this liberal about your—"

"Of course not," Onyx gives Elsa a glance before turning back to Saadia. "But the situation dictates that she discovers." Discovers what? Elsa is paying attention to every word, fighting every urge to interrupt; she isn't a big fan of people talking about her as if she isn't there. "Besides, she has had her fill of revelations as of late that I believe _my condition_ will…. be less daunting."

There were plenty of things running through Elsa's head in regards to that statement. Most of them were the events that transpired the last few days and all the things she has 'learned' about. All things considered, Elsa has the right to fall into a nervous break down—just the thought of not being able to go back home because of the _many reasons _that would prevent her from doing so is enough to send anyone into turmoil. But falling into such a condition would definitely mean that seeing Arendelle again is an even farther possibility and Elsa cannot have that happen. She has a sister and a kingdom to come home to—people who loves her and depend on her safe return. So when Onyx slides his helmet off, Elsa had the mind set that she wouldn't let whatever revelations about _his_ condition dampen her spirit…. _If only it didn't_.

"Vampirism," he says curtly, "is it something you are familiar with in your world?"

Elsa isn't entirely sure if the words sank in—she isn't sure if she heard him right. All other senses are dull at the moment. All Elsa can focus on is what she sees… what his face looks like. The first and only other time she saw his face was in the Blue Palace. Other than that his helmet has kept his face covered throughout their travels. Though despite only seeing the face underneath the strange headgear once, Elsa remembers accurately what he looked like. It was a face that was hardly easy to forget. He was far from frightening, but not someone Elsa can say is her idea of a 'prince charming', but one thing was certain, he wasn't at all monstrous. At least not to the point of how he looks like now. While still retaining most of his features that Elsa remembers: the grey skin, the, the red mark, and the crimson eyes, something is obviously amiss. His skin was gaunt before, but not to the point that his skeletal features were prominent like it is now. If Elsa was to make a comparison, Onyx's skin is pressed into his bones as if he hasn't eaten in a while. Then of course his ears; she recalls them being a bit pointy, but this time they seem to truly protrude even more, way beyond the layers of his black hair. His eyes are blood red and as he stares at Elsa, there seems to be something feral about his gaze. Elsa can feel fear creeping up from within. Is it the way he is staring that is frightening her? Or the fact that his… _fangs_ are insinuating far too many things? Elsa finds herself in need to stand up and taking a few steps back, pressing herself against the wall, slightly knocking over a few items off the dresser. The word 'vampirism' and the change in his facial features seem to connect all too hauntingly.

"What do you mean 'her world'?" luckily Saadia spoke, breaking Onyx's gaze from Elsa.

"To put it simply, she isn't from Tamriel."

"She's _not_ from Tamriel?"

Onyx lets out an aggravated sigh before giving Saadia one of his sarcasm that is laced with his aggravation. Elsa pays no attention to them—her mind seems to be fixed on the idea of _what_ Onyx could be. Dragons. Werewolves. Undead. Vampires. So much. Too much even for a woman who can make life out of snow and ice. "There were stories of the first Vampire," Elsa finally manages some words, causing Onyx and Saadia to stop their own conversation to pay attention to her, "he was named many things and his existence is shrouded in so much mystery. They say his family came from the House of the Dragon—a lineage that claimed their divinity by serving under the banner of Heaven," she licks her dry lips, trying to compose the myriad of emotions she is feeling at the moment. "The one who would cause this house to fall was the third of his name: Vlad Dracul III. He was a man who committed many atrocities in his time. He had a nickname that was influenced by his evil deeds: Vlad the Impaler, one can truly imagine what that named meant. It was said that he impaled rival armies and feasted like a king as their bodies painted the ground red with their blood," Elsa never liked the stories, but her father was adamant that she learned about them. Some of her studies she pushed away, never thinking once that she would ever have to recall them. Though it seems this particular piece was meant to sprout its ugly head. Gathering more of her thoughts, she continues."He was eventually killed. How, when, and where is still all in debate but they say that his body rose from the dead through some deal with the devil. He gained immortality in exchange of whatever was left of his soul. He became a _vampire_. The first Vampire; the _lord_ of all Vampires. An abomination that fed on the blood of those who he deemed worthy to quench his thirst."

A moment of silence is what follows after Elsa remembers the tale of the 'first vampire' of her world. She honestly never believed the whole pact with the devil and Vlad's revival, but with her having snow magic, she is more than willing to believe it now—and if not just for _that, _the fact that she finds herself in another world that are filled with so many fearsome creatures and unimaginable magic... well it would be asinine for her _not_ to believe in that tale, as horrifying as the thought of Vlad Tepes actually still alive in her world after centuries.

"A deal with a devil? A man who would feast on the dying blood of his enemies?" Both the dark skinned woman and Onyx seemed to have given Elsa their undivided attention, but it was Saadia who is the first to speak. "Seems to me that the continent you come from has Molag-Bal's influence."

And there is the name of the Daedric Prince of Domination; the horrifying Prince that Onyx seems to swear by. While her knowledge of this world's beliefs is still very vague, the Queen of Arendelle is able to surmise that Molag-Bal would definitely be someone that Vlad would make a deal with in order for him to gain his immortality—she shudders at the thought that some of these beings quite possibly have an influence on her own world. The fact that she is here now in Skyrim insinuates that the idea is not far fetch. Shaking the thoughts off for now, Elsa catches sight of Onyx, finding herself unable to truly bring it upon herself to state the obvious even if the Dragonborn already told her the reason for his 'condition' without actually telling her.

"Good, then you are familiar with what they are and what they could be known for," Onyx tells her before looking away to give Saadia a signal. The dark skinned woman merely gives the Dragonborn a sigh before walking up to him, rolling the sleeves of her left arm up in the process.

"I can only hope that the resistance the potion you gave me will help me endure better than the last one," she tells him for the second time.

Elsa observes Onyx as he watches Saadia intently when she offers her hand. Elsa catches the glow in his eyes—the look of desperation and the easily recognizable look of hunger. To the Queen's dismay, what was hinted with Onyx's words is true. And if the words weren't enough, the act of Onyx pulling Saadia's hand and quickly planting a firm grip with his jaws on her wrist is enough to truly drive the point home. Elsa turns away to prevent the reality to sink any further, though Saadia's withheld scream echoed quite prominently, making the moment as frightening as it is awkward. Now Elsa truly wishes she didn't have to be in the room, especially when she glances at the scenario, which immediately causes her cheeks to turn red. The sight of Saadia leaning her whole body on Onyx as he continues to replenish himself is more than awkward; the sounds Saadia is letting out, the feral and needy look on Onyx's eyes…. Perhaps finding out that Onyx is a vampire isn't her main qualm after all; having to be in the same room as he feeds is the most inconvenient thing about it. If she isn't mistaken, there seems to be something else about the whole procedure—as if Onyx is quenching more than one type of thirst. Shivering, Elsa continues to keep her head away from the whole thing, forcing herself to stare at the wooden wall, hoping that she can some how block out the sounds Saadia is letting out.

* * *

The sun. Regardless how cloudy the skies are, it always has its way of touching every man, mer, and beast that isn't within the protection of a roof. If they say that the sky is the perception of every mortal living in Nirn, then why can't Serana perceive it as something a bit more comforting rather than… well, the way it is now? Reaching behind her head, the Lady of Volkihar gingerly tucks her shoulder length hair behind her hood before pulling the hood over her head. While the hood holds some kind of aesthetics to her overall attire, it also serves to give her just enough protection from the blaring heat as she takes her first step outside the comfort of her castle and into the outdoors of her castle courtyard.

"I received your message," Serana spots Valerica sitting down on her usual chair at the bottom of the stairs, chalice in hand, "I do believe that this is important?"

"Of course. Dare I take you away from your duties as the Lady of our Castle if it was not of great importance?"

If Valerica's condescending tone of voice wasn't enough to agitate Serana, the lack of acknowledgement through eye contact did. Though Serana has learned to suppress her emotions over the course of her lifetime and a small lack of gesture wasn't going to be the spell that sends Serana into a fury. Though sadly, Serana can't find it in her to truly forgive Valerica for what happened—even though if her mother had some good intentions with the actions she chose. The Lady of Volkihar may have a good hold on her emotions most nights, but she lets it be known that she isn't fond of her Mother's presence. "Let us not play games, _Mother_," Serana states coldly, "as you said, I have other duties I should be attending to."

Valerica pauses, hand clutching the chalice that is a few inches away from her lips. She slowly turns her head, eyes finally connecting with Serana as she gives the attention her daughter seems to vehemently desire. "The matter at hand requires some time, my daughter. Would it be a burden to give me some of it?" with her free hand, Valerica gestures towards the empty chair across from her, silently asking for Serana to join. Of course the reaction from her daughter is an unimpressed sigh, but she complies regardless.

"After all these years the Madgod must have had an influence on you," as those words came out of Serana's mouth, Valerica had already poured Serana her own cup.

"Is that so? What would make you say that about your own mother, Serana?"

Serana's eyes omit a glow before she stands up, sending the chair backwards. "Still playing games are we, _Mother_? Dare you forget that you live in this castle because I allow it? What you have done is unforgivable and it could have cost us so much more than our lives! You should not even be in these very walls, but I garnered enough grace in me to let you be because you _are_ my Mother. However, do not toy with my hospitality."

"I have said a thousand times, and I will continue to tell you for another thousand years if need be that I am not proud of what I did. Though despite my short comings, I do believe that there were some good things that came of it, and for that, I am grateful that my mistakes did not cause as much suffering as it could have for you, Serana."

The Lady of Volkihar was tense; fingers curled into fists and her eyes narrowed as they let out a vigorous glow of anger. It is true that Valerica had expressed her apology every time they would cross paths—but the fact is the two don't exactly get a lot of time to interact, mostly on Serana's part. She can't find it in her to completely forgive her, even if her Mother's deeds were nowhere close to Harkon's. But Serana can't find it in her to banish her own Mother, thus why she lets Valerica take refuge, even if Valerica mostly takes the courtyard as her own 'domain', which means the two have enough space away from each other and encounters are seldom—once or twice a week. To Serana's joy, it has worked to her advantage, but there are still times they have to interact like today, which means she has to maintain some kind of composure. Taking a deep breath, Serana sits back down, adamant at finding a reason as to why she has to endure seeing her Mother today.

"Could you have at least find time to meet me when the weather is not taxing?" Serana states rather annoyingly as she takes a sip of her drink.

"With how much you have on your plate, I doubt we can find a perfect time. Besides, seeing the garden when the sun is out is _far more _gratifying than it is at night, wouldn't you agree?"

The fact that her Mother can nonchalantly pester her about something as trivial as that in a moment such as this pushes Serana's patience to the limits. Though as much as Serana has the urge to stand up and walk away, she can't help _but_ admire what her Mother has done to restore the Courtyard. One can almost say that it rivals its former beauty before it was left unattended and without care for centuries. The dead trees that once dominated this area are now replaced by live ones, vibrant and green, branches that extend, almost creating a full overhead on the lower floor. The ground now holds flowers, expertly planted and cared for in every practical corner. There are blooming flowers that are rich in variety that adds such color and life to what was once a ruined area. True, the obvious lack of attention over the centuries will leave its mark—no amount of tending to by Valerica and her thralls (some are active right now, minding the green life or harvesting whatever alchemy ingredients have bloomed) will take away the test of time. Though to Serana, the antique and somewhat ancient look is inviting and a perfect juxtapose to Valerica's handy work. Also, the smell of teeming green life and thousand year old buildings somehow creates a beautiful aroma. Suffice to say, in Serana's opinion, it is a much improved sight than how it was when she and Onyx visited it years ago.

"If this is indeed an urgent matter, I would still rather have this conversation inside. I'm not a fan of how bright the sun is on any given day," Serana focuses her attention back at her mother. "Even if there is beauty to be admired."

A chuckle is how Valerica responds at first before taking another sip of blood. Of course she is met with Serana's perpetual glare. "That is a relief, my daughter. You can still admire _beauty_. But it is still rather astonishing to me that the sun and the moons still hold weight to how you feel."

"I am missing the part where this is an urgent matter. I take it you enjoy wasting my time?"

"I am merely stating that at one point it troubled you not to venture forth outside just to meet the Dragonborn, regardless of the weather."

"This conversation is over, Valerica." With those words, Serana sets her chalice down rather violently before standing up from her chair for a second time. "Thank you for wasting my time."

"In a matter of two years the Dawnguard have managed to rebuild their ranks," then Valerica's tone suddenly changes—gone is the playful ambiance and now comes the rather stern and insightful side of her that Serana rarely sees since her return from Soul Cairin. In fact, ever since Valerica has let her hair fall freely from their usual twin buns, the former Lady of Volkihar has given herself a much younger image—a younger and a far more playful image—so to see and hear her becoming so serious and straight to business definitely causes some confusion in Serana. Regardless of the shock, her words seem to have some weight to them and Serana cannot help but pay attention. "It is not only in numbers they grow, but also in the quality of their warriors. Is this true, Serana?"

For a moment, Serana reminisces on her encounters with the Dawnguards. The brutal skirmishes she and her clan have had with them recently mirrors Valerica's words. The numbers of deaths within her clan are far greater than Serana would like to admit and she can only speculate on how many were captured and tortured to death. The Dawnguards who didn't kill themselves before getting captured are well trained to the point that information gathered were either too vague or they died in the procedure of extracting information. Suffice to say, Clan Volkihar knows very little to nothing about them save for the fact that the new Dawnguard is nothing like Isran's faction. The only thing similar about them is that they are adamant about eradicating Tamriel of Vampires and wear the same sigil.

"They are troublesome, that much I will admit, but they will not rid the world of our Clan," finally setting aside the most recent events of her encounter with the Dawnguards, Serana responds to Valerica. "They will die like everyone before them who embraces the ambition of hunting us like we are nothing but dogs."

"Troublesome indeed. I have heard whispers among the castle that these hunters have masters in the arcane arts, warriors skilled in every weapon and rogues who posses the eyes of Hircine's finest archers. Of course those qualities are just mere tools—whoever wields them—_whatever_ motivates them seems to mock their predecessors with ease."

"I am aware of all of this, Mother. I still do not understand why you summoned me when I should be seeking for a way to rid ourselves of this problem. Amusing your redundancy is something that I do not need at any given moment."

Valerica takes a moment to allow Serana's words to resonate before taking another drink. Her eyes never leaving Serana's as she spends those few moments enjoying the taste of blood as if it was fine wine. Vampires do love to treat them as such despite the fact that their 'life' mostly depends on it regardless of the taste or the method of drinking it. "I was merely elaborating on the factors against us. I do believe with those in mind, I dare say that now would be an opportune time to seek out the Dragonborn," the change in Serana's demeanor in regards to the statement is all too obvious, but Valerica ignores it and continues to speak. "He aided our clan against the Dawnguards before, did he not?"

Onyx the Dragonborn became one of the Volkihars' greatest allies. With his help, they caused a fatal blow on the vampire hunters after the events of Harkon's obsession with the Tyranny of the Sun prophecy. Then the days went on and Onyx became more of a constant face in Serana's life as a close friend, and eventually, as her lover. To the Lady of Volkihar, the Dragonborn did more than just aid her clan; he helped her feel emotions that she had lost as a vampire. As a Daughter of Coldharbour, Serana had done some unforgivable things—things that Serana thought would forever damn her ability to care for more than her own ambitions and welfare. Though Onyx revived the warm and caring side of her as she watched him care for Anjiri and the Honorhall children. Not only that, when she asked in the most unorthodox and yet straightforward way, Onyx gave his word that he would be hers—that he would feed into her avarice because he felt the same for her. Recollecting all of those memories, Serana finds herself forming a small smile on the corner of her lips. What he personally did for her greatly overshadows his deeds as an ally of Clan Volkihar. Though with how things ended—the way he acted and all the terrible things he had done to endanger himself and the people around him because of his broken pride, Serana quickly retracted that smile, shifting back to the angered and annoyed expression as she replied to her mother.

"The man is troubled and he would bring more duress than actually alleviate some. Besides, last we spoke, he made it clear that he wants nothing to do with me," she tells Valerica with anger in her voice.

"A man with the soul of a dragon… clearly he would be troubled. But that does not strip him of his ability to be of great service. Surely you have not forgotten what he was able to accomplish?"

"He accomplished many things, I am not denying that, but he is volatile and he follows his own ambitions. No _one_ can persuade him to fight for their cause without suffering a possible rebuttal from him," Serana pauses; letting her words mirror the glare she is giving her mother. "Onyx holds no loyalty for any clan or any faction. The Brotherhood and the Nightingales are well aware of this. Which means that asking for his help is more than asinine—like the wind, he drifts and wanders; obliterating anything that gets in his way…" Serana cuts herself off before she says anymore. It's more apparent to Valerica that there is more emotion in her statements, and being this transparent is something Serana hates. Ending it with those words, Serana decides to stop while she is ahead. "Now, if you would excuse me."

Serana quickly turns her back, taking fast and heavy steps towards the castle, convinced that she no longer has the obligation to say anymore or hear anything Valerica has to say—though Valerica makes sure she that her words are to be heard. "I do not claim to know your relationship with him. I was not there and it would be foolish for me to try and claim grounds on something I barely have an idea about. However I do believe that his loyalty was not for our clan. He fought Harkon for you. _He demolished_ Isran and his Dawnguards for _you_," Valerica knew Serana heard her, even if her daughter continues to walk away. "I do believe that if you vocalize how much you need him now, he will fight with you. And correct me if I am wrong but, that is far better than fighting _for you_."

Reaching the top of the stairs, Serana heard loud and clear. So clear that she hesitated in opening the door, taking a few moments to mull over the words. Again the memories of Onyx starts to fill her with the emotions that she was forced to bury within—she had always tried to steer away from idea of asking for his help because of the condition of their relationship. She had other things keeping her mind busy, after all, she does have a recently revived group of Vampire Hunters knocking at her door more often than she would like to admit. But lately, the fine line of what has kept her busy and the idea of the Dragonborn may be cluttered together sooner than later despite herself. Pushing the hood off of her head, Serana opens the door and walks inside.

* * *

Elsa watches as Onyx covers Saadia with the blanket; quite the paradigm shift of a scenario since not too long ago, Onyx fed on the dark skinned woman to the point that she lost herself in her pain. Or perhaps she merely succumbed to unconsciousness from having blood drained form her. Or perhaps there was more to it that Elsa cannot quite figure out since vampirism was just a mere myth to her not too long ago. Lots of things to try and figure out; first she has to get used to the fact that Onyx is a vampire himself—a creature who feeds on others to keep himself sustained.

"Will she be alright?" Elsa speaks in a low voice, keeping her distance from Onyx as he straightens his stance.

"She will live. But she will be ill for possibly a day," he responds, slowly turning around to face her. "Saadia is a Redguard, made strong by the harsh requirements of Skyrim. She won't let this keep her from her duties for too long."

Elsa was half paying attention to what Onyx was saying. Sure she heard his words, but part of her was truly taking in the sight of Onyx's face. Gone were the gaunt and somewhat terrifying features of his; now the younger, healthier looking, and unique human face is the one staring back at her. The first time he took his helmet off, Elsa immediately found herself drawn into his crimson eyes—a common trait in this new world, but something about his own red orbs that defines the brooding ebony clad warrior in a way that compels her. It's even more hypnotizing since they are directly right at her and with the revelation of what Onyx is, part of Elsa can surmise that perhaps his vampirism plays a role at this moment as to why she is so curious. Still, Elsa can't help but find something uniquely charming about him; even more so compared to the first time she saw his face. Well fed and satisfied, his looks truly does depend on blood—again the idea of him being a blood hungry vampire and possibly hypnotizing her causes Elsa to turn her head away in an abrupt manner.

"Did you prefer the starving vampire look, Snow Queen?" the head movement was obvious as well judging from Onyx inquiring as to why.

"No-not at all," Elsa replies, staring at the ground before glancing back at Onyx, "I … I just don't know how to take all of it in."

"I'm not this 'Vlad Dracul' that you spoke of."

There was something ridiculous about that statement that doesn't sit well in Elsa. "No. You are real and I am standing in front of you."

"Oh?" clearly Onyx found her reply amusing with the small grin that forms on his face. "The evil and powerful Dragonborn is also a man who takes full satisfaction in the impalement of his enemies—must be a frightening thought," he draws closer; every step resonates in Elsa's ears. "Or is it because you are afraid that I will succumb to my hunger one day and take you for my own?"

"If that is suppose to be funny, I do not find it amusing at all," Elsa finds her voice squeaking slightly as Onyx is just an arm's reach away with an oddly placed grin that showcases his fangs. "And please… can you not stand so close?"

"If you find me less trustworthy, that is hardly something that bothers me. But do understand that we have to work together for the moment for a lot of reasons."

The words resound within Elsa as soon as she heard it. The strange thing about it is that despite all her apprehension with his ways and the fact that she detests his attitude, Elsa finds herself more than willing to trust him with her life—the fact is that he undoubtedly proven himself on more than one occasion on that matter. What is even more peculiar is that despite the revelation of Onyx's vampirism, she sees and feels him to be closer to humanity than ever before. With that, Elsa can see him as something more than just an emotionless killer. Also, Elsa latched on to the statement of 'have to work together' rather quickly. There was a mutual agreement in the way he said it—almost as if he vocalized his acceptance of her ability despite their differences in how they would go about seeing the value in life. With this profound epiphany, Elsa feels safer than before, but the grin and the flaunting of his fangs make her weary of his distance; amongst other things.

"I understand that," Elsa replies as calmly as she can, "but there are a few more things I would like to know about your…." Elsa struggles for a moments finding the right word, "… condition?"

"My condition you say?" without his helmet, Elsa is able to witness as the emotions runs through Onyx's face—a mixture of agitation and amusement seems to be the most prominent ones she can decipher judging from the frown and raised brow. "Make haste. This isn't exactly the best time to start bombarding me with questions."

"Isn't there a part of you that thinks that this might be a bit too much for me take in?"

"You mentioned that much of what Skyrim has shown you are foreign to you and yet for some reason, this one seems to give you the most apprehension."

"Perhaps it is because this one seems to truly give definition to my thoughts as to where your allegiance lies."

Onyx's annoyed expression changed completely in a matter of seconds. Elsa caught every moment of it—she watched as he seemed to have been dismayed by her words, eyes widening slightly before furrowing at her direction; clearly taken off guard.

"My allegiance, obscure as it may be to you, have kept you alive this entire time," the harsh rebuttal of words even mirrors the emotion written all over Onyx's face. "Despite everything, I chose to protect you so that you may be off to your Arendelle. And despite _everything_, I'm still willing to do so for reasons of my own and for your own welfare."

"Do not misconstrue, Onyx. I appreciate everything that you have done despite the horrific ways you go about things. However this… this isn't exactly something I can take lightly. Partner that in with your beliefs in these Daedric Princes… I just… I'm very afraid that you… well…" Elsa looks away for a moment, unable to form the proper words. "I want to go home and you are the only person that I know in this world that is capable of helping me. But I do not know if you truly have the intent to see through it to the end."

"Funny. Senna seemed to have those feelings about me some time ago," the mention of the late Priestess' name brings Elsa eyes back towards the Dragonborn, "though not as vocal. She continued to pursue her goals as strange as they were. We all knew where that ended."

Was it because his helmet was off that Elsa was truly able to feel some kind of vulnerability? Or is it because Onyx is allowing more of it to show? Regardless, part of her rather felt some kind of comfort in this, despite how dejecting the mention of Senna and her fate is.

"Senna knew, didn't she?"

"She knew and she abhorred it. But as I mentioned, the woman was strange in her ways and her beliefs." A moment of pause stood between the two as Onyx merely stared at Saadia who was sleeping soundly. Elsa stood an arm's reach away, searching Onyx's face and finding so much she couldn't see before; things that she could definitely get used to—things that might very well undermine her fears of where his intent truly lies. She takes another moment to study the unique features in his face. People with long pointy ears are not common, though it's hardly something Elsa can say is the strangest thing she has seen even in Arendelle; after all, the trolls were not exactly human faces, and she has seen them quite often as of late. But aside from that, Elsa can't help but wonder what is the story behind the red mark on the left side of his face—a true contrast to his grey and pale skin; of course his black hair that is obviously used to wearing a helmet is another characteristic that helps his skin glow. Elsa can almost see what his hair would look like if it were groomed. Elsa knew the wonders some royal attention did to Kristoff's hair. Then of course what would he look like if he didn't wear armor? What if he was just in common clothing? Or perhaps given some Arendelle attire? Finding the thought of Onyx in Arendelle somewhat horrifying, as it was strange, Elsa shook the thoughts off just in time for Onyx to turn his face away from her sight. "But you can wander around Whiterun and the entire continent of Tamriel seeking for a way to get back to your world for all I care," and just like that, his ever so 'charming' self came back with the tone of voice and the rough ways he uses words, "but as far as I'm concerned, your captors and my enemies are one and the same. They have a purpose to have you in Skyrim and they crossed my path—something I _do not_ take lightly. So with that said, it would be prudent of you to follow me since I have a motive to destroy your kidnappers."

A rather strange and violent logic, but it does have its merits that Elsa can believe in, so as Onyx reaches for his helmet and slides it over his face, she made her decision. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Elsa reaches for her cloak, and slips it over her shoulders, snapping the apparel together with the brooch, momentarily remembering that this jewelry was Gerda's choice. Of course the thought reaffirms just how much she wants to go home; seeing Anna and the rest of the people close to her, to be back home to the comfort of her own world… Elsa would definitely be able to set some of these apprehensions aside.

"You do not plan on making me a meal sometime in the future, are you?" of course there is that fear. Standing up after leaving a small bag on Saadia's nightstand, Onyx gives his attention to Elsa.

"If that was the case, I would have casted aside my inhibitions and took a bite out of my curiosity long ago," he responds to her. "So to be blunt, you do not give me a reason to do so."

"An adequate answer."

"Glad you think so, Snow Queen."

Despite his response insinuating that he thought about drinking her blood, Elsa can take his word, after all, he has shown more than enough reasons to trust him, despite all the things that makes her weary of him. In the grand scheme of things, Onyx is right: he is her best chance and they share the same enemy and part of her thought about Senna's words about having patience in Onyx and his uncertainty. If anything else, Elsa can take solace in Senna who trusted Onyx despite his actions; a woman that seemed so kind and opposite of Onyx. A woman who died for the Dragonborn.

"With that said, I suppose you have a plan?" Elsa takes one more moment to straighten out her cloak, trying to keep herself busy in action as Onyx walks past her and stops in front of the door.

"I do. But I will ask that you do not speak of my vampirism so openly. The road to High Hrothgar will be long and demanding and I do not need anymore vampire slaying cults after me."

The man in Elisif's court, Falk, is the first thing that comes to Elsa's mind. She wanted to mention him, but decides its best to leave it alone for now. "High Hrothgar? Are we going to encounter more mythological creatures who are out to take your head off your shoulders?" Elsa sprouts the words with a smirk, getting an unimpressed posture from the Dragonborn. She could only wish that his helmet were still off to so she can see his face.

"How amusing, but no. We will be crossing paths with the men who taught me much of what I know about using my Thu'um," letting her ponder on weight of that statement, Onyx reaches for the door but quickly pauses to face her again. "Oh, I'm sure it comes to no surprise but, they hate me."

**To Be Continued. **


	22. Skyrim Chronicles: The Snow Queen X

_The house of the Dragon_. _The first and the Lord of all Vampires. The Impaler._ It's obvious to say that I find myself somewhat fascinated with this Vlad Dracul III that Elsa speaks of. Truthfully, I find it rather astonishing that the existences of Vampires are a possibility in Elsa's world. The fact that the tales of this Vlad Dracul insinuates so much carnage and tragedy seems to not settle well that Elsa was the one who educated me about his existence. But perhaps I should just drop these thoughts altogether and pay attention to Irileth.

"Are you paying attention, Dragonborn?" the Dunmer Housecarl speaks with an obviously irritated tone. Even her posture shows just how much she didn't appreciate my divided attention.

"Yes," I answer immediately, trying to cover with a lie as quickly as possible, "but as I told you in the beginning, there is little time for me to speak to Balgruuf."

The Dunmer lets out a sound that is a mixture of a sigh and a growl as her eyes bounce from me to Elsa, before coming back to me. The pair of guards that are with her stiffen their stance as they can feel just how agitated the Housecarl is; the fiery auburn hair that is roughly pulled into a tight ponytail can almost be a symbol of Irileth's frustration, due to it resembling a distasteful fire spell of some sort. "Do you not understand that the Jarl is asking for you because of matters that require immediate attention?"

"Have you failed to realize that perhaps I have matters of my own that are in dire need of my attention?"

"Onyx, perhaps we should—"

I put my hand up, signaling Elsa to stop as I can feel her take one step closer, as if to take over the conversation. I'm sure she didn't like that; I may not be able to see her expression, but I can feel her glare burning at the back of my head. "I'm not the Thane of Whiterun anymore, nor do I need to be. Tell Balgruuf that it is nothing personal."

I had the intent of pushing my way through Irileth and the guards if I had to, but they stepped aside quickly enough. I can hear Elsa apologizing, as if she has any business with Skyrim and its tribulations.

"Sigil Stones. The Cult of Miraak. Strange doors in Cyrodiil," Irileth states loudly, "these are just some of the things that are happening all over Tamriel, Dragonborn. Even you cannot avoid these things."

I sigh, turning to face the Housecarl after Elsa steps out of the way. "The High Queen has notified me. I told her that if I had the time, I would look into it. Other than that, perhaps I can ask the Greybeards to provide you with another errand-mer."

"High Hrothgar? You travel to High Hrothgar?"

"Unless the Greybeards moved to a new location, yes, I'm going to the Throat of the World." Irileth stared at me with a baffled look in her face. I gave her the same look, momentarily glancing at the guards who seemed uneasy at the idea as well. Surely the fact that I didn't get along with the Greybeards could not cause that much uneasiness, can it?

"Have you ventured in that area recently?"

Again the way the question was asked pushes me to conclude that there is something else. Something that perhaps I should have known, but with my decision to be as reclusive as I have been, I have missed a few things that have occurred in Skyrim. As I think about the answer, I can honestly say that it has been some time since I have been in that area. No incentive nor need to visit there and coincidentally enough, nothing in my tasks had pushed me that direction. Whatever may be happening there now, it may very well be another reason for me to truly seek the Greybeards for some kind of answer—if they know anything that is. "It has been some time."

"I would imagine you would have a reason to avoid them. And I should not be surprised with how evasive you have been with our messages that you are unaware," unnecessary comment on Irileth's part. Luckily she seems to have more to say than nonsensical commentary. "About a year ago, refugees from Ivarstead came to us with news of destruction originating from High Hrothgar. With very little hesitation, our Jarl sent soldiers that direction and those who came back were spoke of a frozen graveyard."

"Those who came back?"

"Yes, Dragonborn. What dark magic occurs there is violent and hostile. Witnesses mentioned that any attempt to reach High Hrothgar is met with an invisible force, one that tears through armor and renders magic useless. Which is why some of our men did not return that day."

I stand there for a moment, trying to take in what this could mean. My gaze lingers towards Elsa for a moment who is staring at me with a concerned look. "Has word been spread about this to the other Holds?"

"Of course, but despite the Civil War ending, uneasiness remains. Many are still opposing the Imperial's law—not as violently as Ulfric and Windhelm once did, but such small opposition is enough to hamper any other subjects to be taken seriously."

"What has Elisif said about this?"

"From what I have heard she was going to notify you about the strange things that are happening all over," and she has, but nothing about this was mentioned, or perhaps this issue was something that they did not want me to touch.

"I have been made aware of some of the events happening in Tamriel. Nothing about this, however."

"I was also informed that the High Queen did send some of her best battlemages to investigate," Irileth pauses, looking to her guards as they seem to be bothered by this news, "but I'm afraid that their effort to delve further caused them their lives."

"A year ago you say?" as the Housecarl responds with a nod, I quickly remember Iola mentioning something about refugees arriving in Riften around the same time. Of course I had dismissed it and thought nothing of it—my thoughts whenever I visit Riften is always on Anjiri and her welfare. Though I am sure that Maven did nothing to abate that situation; she probably turned those poor souls away, or worse… put them to work in exchange for safe haven.

"Surely you know something, do you not?"

I shoot Irileth a glare, wanting nothing more than to answer in the most sarcastic way, but the thoughts of the possibilities are currently bogging down my mind. Regardless, the answers lie in High Hrothgar and not here. "I'll remember to find the courier and send a note your way shortly after I arrive at Ivarstead." I actually had no intention of doing so, but that was more or less a way to end the conversation in a way that could satisfy the Housecarl's need to be obstinate about getting me inside Dragonsreach. The words that follow after truly drives the point home that Balgruuf is to be seen as soon as possible, though I pay very little attention to the details of whatever she was trying to say. As of right now, my mind is fixed on the news about High Hrothgar. Anxious about finding out the truth is one way to put it.

"Was it wise to ignore this Jarl Balgruuf's request to see you?" Elsa asks me quietly as she walks by my side. I can't help but find myself amused at the way she enunciated Balgruuf's name.

"It would be a long drawn out conversation that would do nothing but waste yours and my time. And I know you can agree that we cannot waste anymore."

I can tell Elsa didn't want to agree, but she follows anyways despite her hesitation. In this situation, Elsa knows I'm right. After a few steps, she breaks the silence again, this time steering the conversation in a different route. "You have a bad feeling about this, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Strange. As much as I am still a foreigner, I feel it too."

It would be too easy to mock Elsa and tell her that everything about Skyrim should evoke a bad feeling since she _is_ a foreigner. But senseless bickering with her is hardly something I should dive into right now. Somehow even finding the first step on the journey to get her home is getting harder and harder by the moment. I can only hope that the Greybeards are just trying to enhance their idea of 'seclusion' rather than the worse case scenario; but Elsa is right in the thought that I _do_ have a bad feeling about this. But with my options running low, I have to risk it in hopes that choosing to travel to the Greybeards' sanctuary can prove beneficial.

* * *

"This way, Dragonborn."

It's been a long time since I have seen a Redguard in the Imperial Legion—the army well known for its diversity, taking in any man, mer, or beast capable of wielding a blade and following orders. But the last two hundred years changed a lot of that. These days the Aldmeri Dominion has more influence on who are being recruited than the Imperials would like to admit. Still, capable bodies are needed these days especially when I seem to have missed quite a lot in my time secluding myself.

"The general will be with you shortly, in the mean time, please make yourself at home," it's easy for me to catch how intimidated this soldier is. Definitely new to his position; that or my reputation precedes me. Regardless, I nod my head as I take in the sight of their _finest_ room.

"Tell him to take his time," I tell the Redguard. "My companion and I would like some time to rest."

"Of course. I'll make sure no one bothers you."

He stares at Elsa with a smile before giving me the same gesture. I give him no acknowledgement unlike Elsa, who is of course still too polite for her own good. Must be the reason why the soldier gives Elsa one more glance before walking away; a beautiful woman with the manners unseen and unheard of in Tamriel could definitely shake more than enough foundations in an already volatile world. Speaking of being shaken, as soon as she and I are alone, Elsa's composure changes and I can tell that she is trying to take the environment she is in as positively as possible.

"It's only for a few until we have gained our strength," I notify her as I take my crossbow off my back and lay it on one of the beds.

"You mean until I gained my strength?"

"I'll admit that the few hours wasn't as uneventful as I thought it would be," the first 'entertainment' for the night that comes to mind was the pack of wolves, "but at in the grand scheme of things, you held your own. But it's quite obvious that this isn't your kind of lifestyle is it?"

"If you are referring to being kidnapped and lost in a strange new world, dealing with some of the most heinous beings I have ever met, having to endure my beliefs and imagination warped and tainted, and of course being around in your presence," I turn to face her, studying as she stands there with her hands on her hip, face filled with distress despite the sarcasm in her voice, "then no, I hate to disappoint, this is not my lifestyle."

"Being around me, you say? Am I truly that distasteful to be around?"

The change from distressed to shock on her face was rather obvious. "You have some issues, Onyx." And her answer was as terse as it can be, which I don't mind. Sugar coated statements are one of the things I abhor.

"Right. The killing, the Daedras... And …. _You know_," I insinuate, which she caught on that I was hinting to my vampirism. She responds by looking to the side and takes a deep long breath before locking eyes with me once more. "You see me as a savage killer, incapable of feeling remorse or anything that has nothing to do with bloodshed."

"In your eyes, I am too naïve and soft for my own powers. You believe I am hopeless, right?"

Naïve… hopeless… I'm not sure if those are the words I can use to describe Elsa. Perhaps a bit too restricted when confronted with life threatening situations, but hopeless? No. Naïve? I'm not sure. What would you a call a woman who lived outside the hostility of Tamriel? I look at Elsa, a woman properly dressed, conservative, and elegant—with skin holding its own idea of perfection next to an Altmer, the hair that is so unique and baffling how she manages to retain the style, then of course the eyes…_the majestic icy blue eyes_… next to Fort Amol's interiors which is nothing short of being a complete contrast to Elsa. With the grey-stone-like surroundings, the poorly lit room, and the abundance of weaponry displayed (either mounted on the wall or on weapons rack) clashing with Elsa's attire, her more conservative one, might I add, it is too easy to notice her—to know that she is out of place is an understatement. I remember the sight of her being in her ship where the scene of her staring at the picture was a 'perfect' image. The backdrop of her vibrantly Arendelle decorations (I assume) completes Elsa in every way. But being here in this compact stone room, the only thing even remotely close to match her sharp coloring scheme are the green moss growing from the rocks and the rust colored armor piled up on the decrepit wooden shelves. Other than that, Elsa stands out like a painted figure with a dull and rather sullen background. As I said, naïve isn't the best way to describe her. The idea of 'someone who doesn't belong here' is the most accurate way to look at Elsa; and her being here, even aesthetically; it feels like she is disrupting the natural order of Skyrim—of Tamriel. And in some ways, her presence alone had caused enough to shake the foundations of my world. Events that she couldn't have helped, nor do I blame her for it, but with what her existence had insinuated… my destruction and all as that Dunmer stated and my vision I had implied… It's more than obvious that I need to get her out of here, for my sake and hers. A thought I have to keep reminding myself, anyways.

"Rest." I say, ignoring her previous question. It's best that we end the conversation before it truly starts.

"I apologize," she states instantly as soon as I turn to walk the other way, "I hope I did not come across ungrateful for what you have done, because I am. It's just that… you're not the easiest person to be around…for a _lot_ of reasons."

A lot of reasons she says. Murder. No consideration for the authority of the High Queen and Jarls. Daedric alliance. Vampirism. Those are the reasons. Then of course there is my past and if she knew more about it she'd most likely detest me more—probably losing all confidence in my capability of keeping her safe. And people wonder why I choose not to be their hero. A hero rises and falls like the day. One moment you're seen in the highest decree, pester you with requests, and completely shunning the idea that a hero is only as mortal who bleeds just like them; then the moment after that, when you have to spend the time to lick your wounds or see to your own welfare, you are abhorred and feared.

"They will bring food shortly. Just don't expect it to be anything like Senna's expertise in cooking," that thought alone reminds me of that foolish Priestess. I wish she listened to the times I berated her for staying by my side. I told her plenty of times to return to her temple… but she didn't. Maybe if I had forced her to return… perhaps it wouldn't have ended the way it did. Choosing not to confide with how I feel any longer, I turn away completely, leaving Elsa alone and reaching for the next door that leads outside. This scene. This brings back memories. Fort Amol is one of the places that I found myself spilling blood within its walls on two occasions; the most noted one was during the ending days of the Civil War where the Stormcloaks were driven out and before that, I aided the rebels with their problems with necromancers. So much bloodshed and so much vile energy lingering from all the slaughtering that occurred. As I walk over to the ledge, I observe the lower grounds where Imperial Soldiers are either preparing to end their daytime duties or switching shifts, trading a few words as they do so. Some of them take note of me, glancing up and giving me a baffled look (some of those said looks are laced with anger). There was a time when this place was less manned and far less alarmed. Soldiers went about their days refining their weapons redundantly, some tried their hand at alchemy by fidgeting with the alchemy table left by the sorcerers, while the rest were either chatting or jokingly shooting arrows at the targets. Things have changed over the years for reasons I can only assume are tied to the strange things that are happening all over Skyrim—the ones that I felt but chose not to involve myself for reasons of my own.

As I continue to walk towards my intended destination for the night, I take note of the soldier and the helmet that he cradles on his arm. A helmet reserved for a decorated soldier, or perhaps a high-ranking Legionnaire. I recognize the design, the way it completely obscures a soldier's face if worn, the black mane on top of the helmet, and of course the recognizable Imperial logo engraved on the forehead. Awkwardly too bright with its silver metal that matches the rest of the plating on the cuirass, gauntlets, and greaves, it is way too easy to say that this might be Fort Amol's current highest ranking soldier on duty. The blunt and rather bold way he seems to stare at me is a symbol of his authority—or at least, that's how it can be perceived. Observing his stance and the way he might choose to get closer to speak, I choose to ignore him and continue to trek upwards; he seems to have something in his mind that he would like to say, but the last thing I need is a washed up Legionnaire wanting to throw his heroic opinions my direction about what I should be doing. I have had plenty of those already the last few days and I will not burden myself with a stranger's opinion on that matter. I make my intent of ignoring him clear by focusing on the view outside the walls of this stronghold. I momentarily glance at the direction where Eldergleam Sanctuary is before immediately focusing on the unnerving sight of the tall mountains as they touch the sky. I keep my eyes that direction, admiring the sight as the darkness decorates the back of the colossal peaks. The holes in the sky begin to illuminate the black void; definitely the signs that tells the people of Tamriel that the night has taken over, which is of course my preferred hours of the day. For a moment I seem to have lost myself in staring and almost completely ignored the soldier who has watch duty on this tower. I signal him away, which caused him to hesitate for a moment but quickly complied, leaving me at peace so that I may have my much-needed seclusion and my time to admire the view. My attention focused in on The Throat of the World; a name for such a monumental location seems a bit exaggerating but coming from someone who has stepped foot on that mountain, I can definitely attest to the reason as to _why_ it has that name. From here, from this watch post of this insignificant stronghold, the sight of the mountains seems at peace. But to me I can sense that something is amiss. The clouds surrounding the peak seems to move in an awfully odd pace… as if unnatural force are imposing them to shift that way. I take a few steps forward to the ledge, trying to get a better view. Perhaps my mind plays tricks on me. Perhaps the words of Irileth bother me far more than it should. But as I try to get a better look, something else causes me to take hold of my blade.

"Easy, lad," hearing the voice and recognizing it, I stop myself from pulling Muramasa out completely. "No enemies here."

A pair of ravens flew passed me and in their place, a figure cloaked in black stands before me… the leader of Thieves Guild himself and one of Nocturnal's loyal servants. I take a moment to take heed of Brynjolf's presence, ensuring myself that it is him before I push the top half of my blade back in the scabbard. While of course to anyone else, the Nightingale attire offers little to no clue as to who the person is behind the mask and cowl. Enigmatic, intricate, and obviously meant for the wearer to be hidden by shadow, the Nightingale who stands in front of me is Brynjolf, no doubt about that. Aside from the voice, I know his stance and his postures. I also recognize the pommel of his blade, which is still sheathed. And the person next to him, it is too easy to know who it is. The body of a female—one that I have known for so long in more ways than one… the aggressive and closed off way she stands… I can only wonder what brought both Brynjolf _and_ Karliah out of the shadows and into my presence.

"None that will seek for your head, Onyx," and the hostility in her words and the way she fluctuates her voice is ever so charming. Even with her mask and cowl adorning her beautiful face, I can feel Karliah's purple eyes burning at my very existence. Have to say, even with that anger, I find her rather enticing, especially the way Nocturnal's gift clings on to her skin, accentuating on her feminine qualities. She does wear that Nightingale brooch rather well; it rests between her breasts rather well.

"There are strong forces against me and you chose to abandon Riften now?"

"That very reason is why we travelled to Heljarchen Hall only to find it destroyed."

"Word travels fast with the Mistress of Shadows," Karliah adds, as if that comment was needed. "Besides, when do you _not_ have forces against you, Onyx?"

THAT comment was definitely not needed and I give her a glare in return. Must be a strange sight seeing two people with 'eyeless' faces glaring at each other for a few moments too many.

"This is not the time, lass," Brynjolf interrupts, slightly stepping between us, staring at Karliah first then to me. "We are here to help, Onyx, in any way we can. You just need to ask us."

While I listen to Brynjolf, I never took my eyes off Barenziah's daughter as she closes her stance even more. Karliah can be so obvious with her body language, despite her being one of the most enigmatic people in the Thieves Guild. Finally deciding to respond to Brynolf, I reach for an item inside the pouch given to me by the patron of the Thieves Guild and ease it towards him. "Take this to Anjiri, and tell her I am very sorry I couldn't…. couldn't save Senna." The air around suddenly felt thick the moment the amulet falls on Brynjolf's palm. In those few moments, I also recall some of nights I saw the trinket around Senna's neck, sensually decorating her dark skin, resting perfectly on her sternum, just above her breasts. I vividly remember the few times she smiled, I recall her scent, and I remember vividly as we took the night… but I had to quickly retract those thoughts as I can feel both Brynjolf and Karliah studying me, as if trying to decipher my emotions behind my masque.

"What are we supposed to tell her?"

"It is better if you give it to her yourself," Karliah speaks before I am able to respond to Brynjolf. With what was presented, even her disdain for me seems to be set-aside even if I know it is temporary. Her statement was out of compassion and not for the purpose of burdening me even more. Did I expect anything less from Karliah? Perhaps. Friends and allies are few these days and the majority of the ones I have left are walking the fine line of obscurity in regards to their allegiance.

"I will see her soon," is all I can say.

"That is what Iola keeps telling her and yet you have not been there for some time," and there goes Karliah's passive-aggressive tone returning.

"Karliah, not now."

"He has to hear it, Bryn. His _daughter_ is growing up and he isn't there to see her. And this grave message should be his to deliver."

I know that Brynjolf wants to say something to alleviate the awkward return of the hostility Karliah has for me. But he can't say anything because the Dunmer is right. I know she's right.

"Anjiri will know the moment she has that in her hand. Please go back to Riften and protect her. I will be there as soon as I can," I glance one last time at Senna's amulet before turning around to face towards the Throat of the World .

"We were hoping you would come with us, lad."

I want to be honest with him. I want to tell Brynjolf that nothing would give me more solace than seeing that young girl again even if I bear news that will cause her to cry. But… "Care to share anything you know of what is happening that direction?" I try to steer the subject away from one of my biggest concerns; Anjiri is always in my mind far more than I allow myself to say, but at the current moment, perhaps what is going on is a bit of an immediate concern. Truthfully, what they can share about the ominous things that are happening in High Hrothgar would prove far more useful than any of their guilt inducing words. I don't need anyone to remind me just how much I have been failing that little girl. I am already aware.

"You really have disconnected yourself, haven't you?" Bryn steps forward, standing by my side as he stares at the mountains. "What we have found out is that the Greybeards may have broken their oath for peace for reasons unknown," that is highly unlikely, but I don't argue with him. Instead I keep listening. "From what Maven heard from the other Jarls is that we should expect the worse should the strange magic over there actually starts to spread."

"I'm surprised the Empire hasn't done anything yet."

"I'm sure they are dealing with bigger things from the borders of Hammerfell. We can only be thankful that they're not poking in Skyrim as much, but that also means that this kind of thing is going to be up to Skyrim to deal with."

"Up to Skyrim? Oh wait," I clear my throat as I prepare to speak the words that were evoked by Brynjolf's statement, "up to the _Hero_ of Skyrim. It's up to me again, right? Which is why all the Jarls, the High Queen, and probably even Maven are doing what they can to get a hold of me. Which is probably why the two of you visited Helrjachen Hall, right? It's mere coincidence that you found it in shambles and now here we are."

"What a fool you have become, Dragonborn," if Bryn had any words to say, Karliah steps in once again to speak before he does. "Nocturnal did not think it would be wise for both Bryn and I to leave, but we both believed that we needed to see if you needed our help."

"That and Anjiri misses you terribly. Lad, we came to see if we could help. We felt something wrong and was confirmed when we spoke to Nocturnal."

Among those words, again, anything about Anjiri catches my attention. I should visit her… but… Elsa… the Throat of the World… if anyone has any information that can help it can be the ones occupying that place—unfortunately, there seems to be something else happening up there.

"Besides, how can the people of this land see you as a hero after everything you have and have not done?"

I shift my stance; letting my dislike for those words exude in my posture. "You have no right to judge me, Karliah."

"I can and I will. Bryn and I are still trying to fix what J'udas might have broken," oh of course J'udas would be brought up. "Also, _we _are the ones taking care of _your_ daughter. We do it willingly and out of are own love for the girl, so when we come to remind you of her and discover that you are in bed with a strange Nord woman, then all your reasons for not being in Anjiri's life seems to be mere excuses for the simple fact that you are failing as a father."

"Karliah!"

Brynjolf reacted by standing in front of me, using himself as a wall between the Dunmer and I. There was a part of me that felt like I should use action to express how much I didn't appreciate those words, but right now, it's not worth it. I just stand there, glaring at her as Brynjolf blocks the way. "If only she was a Nord," I finally respond, "but she's a bit more complicating than that."

"Is that so? She must be complicating enough to make you forget about that Volkihar woman. Not to mention you clearly don't have enough grief for Senna since you have 'moved on'."

Those words were enough to make me move and it was good that Brynjolf is standing where he is standing. I wasn't sure exactly what I was going to do, _if_ I was going to do anything at all but I did step forward, which on its own insinuated a lot of things that could happen.

"Easy, Laddie," Brynjolf gives me a small push, trying to retain the distance between Karliah and I as I remain in my aggressive stance. "Karliah, you know better. This _is not_ the time."

"I'm going to see the Greybeards. I'm going to handle the business I have and then I will see Anjiri," I state harshly, glaring at Karliah. "Protect her out of your love, that is something I can appreciate. Admonish me for lacking as a person who cares for her, that's fine. But know that I will not take accusations of the foolish kind again, Karliah."

"I will only say this one more time to the two of you: _drop this idiotic grudge_ and focus on what matters."

It's never the best feeling when someone tells you that you are acting like a child; I don't like it and I know Karliah didn't but neither one of us can truly refute Brynjolf's words. I for one am more than willing to let this slide; for now. Easing my weight off of Brynjolf, I step around him, giving Karliah one last glance before deciding to go back to the room where Elsa is.

"Nocturnal mentioned that magic beyond mortals are at work; a Prince, most likely," I stop, allowing myself to take heed of Karliah calling to me with that information—a fact that I already knew I was going to deal with. "Act with some logic, Onyx. This might be too big even for you."

"Maybe," I take one step down before pausing and looking behind me. "I'll make sure to convey your disdain for J'udas when I see him."

"You will not see him again. To betray the Nightingales is to betray the trust Nocturnal has given, which has severe consequences." The moment I met Karliah, I knew just how loyal she is to the Daedric Prince of shadows. Despite our current broken rapport I can acknowledge the fact that she is dangerously loyal, and would go to great lengths just to appeal her Mistress. The words she spoke may not have the intimidating affect on me, however it does remind me that Karliah is a Nightingale that Nocturnal is _lucky_ to have. J'udas on the other hand will have less luck when these two catch up to him.

With that, I make my way down, giving no acknowledgement as Brynjolf uttered the words: Shadow hide you. While I am an ally of the Nightingales and the Thieves Guild in general, my veneration for their patron has never been that deep so I never reciprocate their salutation. Though I can respect the idea of using the darkness as a means to an end. After all, stealth and the element of surprise are one of the very things that have helped me in situations when I lacked the power I do now. Though in that thought, Karliah may have a point: this situation might be bigger than myself with what and who seems to be involved. Defeating Alduin required some help and if this is anything close to that crisis, it might be the case of me finally seeking out some old allies… assuming I still have some. With the Nightingales fully aware of what is happening, I could at least put some solace in the thought that they might be willing to lend a hand… still, I feel their place should be in Riften where they can protect Anjiri and Honorhall in general if the threat reaches that far. But _I will_ be there for Anjiri soon enough. I just have to find a way to get Elsa out of here before she either fulfill that vision or gets herself killed in Skyrim.

* * *

Ivarstead is a place that holds monumental value in my mental map because of what it did for me. This was where my first journey to be a Dovahkiin really started. As fitting as it might sound, Ivarstead is one of the places that I would have considered living the rest of my life without my blade in hand. I would have wanted to be a blacksmith here, honing my skills in one of the few talents I have that can be considered 'peaceful'. I would not have minded being a simple hardworking mer in a place that is hardly bustling with people—save for the pilgrims who seek to take the journey up into the mountains so they may visit the temple of High Hrothgar for their own spiritual satisfaction, other than that, it's not Solitude or even Winterhold (which got ridiculously too busy since the College regained some of its good standings). That could have been something; the Dragonborn as a no-name blacksmith in a town hardly known as a town but recognized as a 'rest point' for the travelers who seek to endeavor the steps that leads to the tallest mountain in Tamriel. That would have been something. But that thought, the idea of 'would have' is definitely a thing of the past. Ivarstead is now but a graveyard… a frozen wasteland of some sort.

I saw it from the distance… it's an image that can be seen from afar. Ice has covered everything, creating a hostile ambiance with the sharp spikes protruding in its wake. Structures that were once homes, places of business and such are now just fragments, victims of the violent frost magic that was at work here. I can even recognize what was once the lumber mill, or at least the part that is 'grounded' by the frozen river that it once depended on it to spin. But it's about the only thing that is recognizable as far as Ivarstead's more familiar 'landmarks'. With everything blanketed with thick layers of ice, one can hardly tell that this was once a populated small town. One could hardly recognize it was a town to begin with.

"This…. Magic is evil," with her arms extended to the side with open palms, Elsa seems to be attuning herself with all the ice that blanketed Ivarstead. I would question as to how her magic seems to work, but the bigger issue in question is what lies ahead of us, just across what was once a bridge over the frozen Darkwater.

"It's not the magic we should consider evil but the questionable motives of the people using it."

"Questionable?" she seems disgusted at the word. Of course, to Elsa it's plain and simple: good and evil. Though if these people have indeed been the cause of the grief the last few days…. what is grey, even I can interpret as black or white. "Would you happen to know who these people are?"

"I knew who lived atop the mountains," I stare ahead of me, "but as far as I know, they would not have created that and caused all this."

'That' to which I speak of is the colossal storm that engulfs the mountain, seemingly acting as a barrier to dissuade anyone attempting to enter. The way the violent wind wraps around the mountain, stopping right where first tablet stands, this definitely is no strange natural occurrence—this is magic. Its presence had already influenced the lands distances away; the road Elsa and I travelled was littered with the damage this enchantment had caused. Trees were nothing more than pillars of ice, the land covered in snow (more than usual), the waters that remained unfrozen were bitter and unforgivingly cold, then of course life was scarce and the guards stopped at a certain point, warning us of the danger ahead. I saw this from the distance but seeing it up close… it definitely reminds me of something.

"_Lok_!" for a moment it seems as if it was going to clear a path but it was only for a deceptive moment. "_Lok Vah Koor_!" and even with all three words, the storm continues to act as a barrier. If anything else, it lets out a sound as if angered by someone trying to calm it down.

"Not even your magic can do anything against it?"

I tilt my head so that I can give Elsa a baffled look. If the Thu'um were just mere magic, any mage would have mastered it. But I suppose it would be a wasted effort to educate and argue about it. "This storm used to stay above where the mountain touched the sky," I remember learning the first word; I remember travelling through the storm so that I may speak with the leader of the Greybeards himself. That was ages ago, it seems.

"Someone has the power to call on a storm like this?"

"In a sense, yes. And it seems someone has even _greater_ power to cause it to act as a complete wall so that none may enter High Hrothgar." I think about my statement and allow the weight of it to sink in. There are plenty of things that could have caused this, many explanations as to what is going on, but the truth of the matter is that … if the worse has passed, I may not see the Greybeards again and Paarthurnax. We may have come to an impasse in regards to our beliefs, which of course led us to completely disregarding each other, but in the end, Arngeir and his ostracized brethren used to be people I looked up to like I did with Kodlak. Now it seems…"For years all silent," I recite, trying to change my mood which must be obvious even to Elsa, "the Greybeards spoke one name; Tiber Septim, stripling then, was summoned to Hrothgar; they blessed and named him Dovahkiin." I can feel Elsa's eyes on me, trying to figure out where that came from. I might as well answer before she gets even more lost. "You see that tablet there ahead of you? There are ten of them. They are scattered numerically as one ascends up the mountain. One can read the words etched on all of them as they climb up the seven thousand steps of High Hrothgar. I remember most of them quite well especially the one I recited from the ninth tablet."

I had an urge to explain why it is my favored tablet despite the moment requiring a little bit more urgency on the matter at hand. But something else seems to grab my attention. The feeling is quite familiar and with the sounds that accompany it, I can only assume. This was not the time for conversations as frivolous as the one I was about to have. Taking Elsa by the arm, I pull her out of the way before summoning Spellbreaker. A blink of an eye too late and I would have felt the full force of the thunderbolt spell. As my timing would have it, I only found myself faltering back a few steps before regaining my composure, blade in one hand, Periyte's artifact on the other.

"Thank you but…you could have dislocated my arm!" Elsa complains as she is now on her feet and standing by my side.

"No time to warn you, and I wasn't sure you would have been able to react in time," I keep my eyes forward, focusing in on the shrieks emanating from the other side of the storm. "You are quite welcome, by the way. And prepare yourself. Our foe is no mere mage."

An understatement on my part, more or less and as the image of a floating person bursting through the barrier, I'm sure Elsa can also figure out as to why my understatement rings true. "Who in heavens is that?" our assailant was not one to have a conversation; what it wanted was action and using the staff in its hand, it hurls yet another destruction spell at us, forcing me to veer to my left while Elsa uses her makeshift shield in the form of ice.

"That is something that should not be here anymore," I reply as I charge forward. "This is a Dragonpriest—so be at your best!"

"Dragon Priest?"

I heard Elsa shout as I continue to push forward with the Daedric Artifact deterring the destructive spells. Perhaps I could explain to Elsa what the Dragonpriests once were and everything else that I know about them and their ties with the whole grand scheme of me. _Maybe_. Truthfully, at first I had a hard time getting in my head that this is one of them; of course the signature mask with the makeshift face is all too recognizable. I might not remember which Dragonpriest wore the silver mask with the blue glow, but the fact that I fought and defeated them then used their masks as decorations, of course I'll recognize them from anywhere. Which gives me the idea that one of the skeevers responsible for Senna's death might be wearing this enchanted headgear, seeing as this priest is not donning tattered robes with dragon-influenced designs but instead the typical mage robe replaces the archaic ensemble, it's easy to assume that this is just a mortal man empowered by the helmet. But the way it hovers and the power behind every spell … this is no mage that is enhanced by the Dragonpriest mask. This is a priest. How and why it is back in the realm of the living without Alduin, I intend to find out. Quickly retracting Spellbreaker, I charge forward, altering my path left to right so that it won't get a clear shot. I get close enough and attack, which is blocked by the staff it wields. It takes effort on his part, but he wards me off by releasing a lightning cloak, which quickly forces me to shuffle back to avoid contact. Of course that's what it was counting on and the priest pursues me, thinking it has me where it wants me, which I must say the attempt by conjuring a frost blade was rather bold. I clash with its makeshift blade once or twice before the weapon turns into harmless snow that gave me the advantage to counter.

It stumbles backwards, trying to catch itself before glaring at me with hate I can sense through the slits in its mask. "_Dovahkiin_…. _nii los hi_…" it speaks as it tends to the wound I gave it across its chest. "… sahqo tuz...!"

It points at Muramasa and I understand what it is trying to say. This Dragonpriest tasted my sword before and remembers. After slaying a handful of these powerful mages, I can remember only a few who spoke to me—with that thought and being able to connect the mask's distinct color the particular priest, I can finally say his true name. "Muramasa hungers, Morokei," I wield the crimson Akavir blade with both hands, "and you will feed him."

Whether Morokei might have truly hated what I said or perhaps his mind simply reverted back to his primal rage, I don't have much thought nor time to truly delve into it. Calling upon the magicka in his staff, the Dragonpriest prepares to unleash more of his lightning spells but Elsa aids me once again and this time she initiates the offensive attack. While Morokei might have been oblivious as to what caused his frost blade to turn into harmless snow, this time, he is aware of Elsa's assistance and quickly puts up his ward to block the Snow Queen's attack. For a moment I take in the sight of a Dragonpriest straining against a frost spell being thrown by an unorthodox caster; and while this priest is severely weakened (it appears to have had a previous battle before confronting us), these beings were once considered lower than Dragons but above all mortals. What does that make Elsa? Or at least, how does that explain her powers? Regardless, Morokei attempts to keep me busy by using his staff to finish the spell he was disrupted from throwing a few moments prior. But Elsa's interruption was already Morokei's undoing. Stepping to the side and avoiding the range of his weapon and spell, I slash my blade upward, which resulted in a clean and affective maneuver which served to cut his right arm off. With the pain blinding him, his ward disappears and Elsa's linear frost spell gashes the priest across his shoulder, sending him to the ground in agony. I take a few moments before stalking him, readying my blade in the event he is merely putting up a ruse. As I get closer, I notice a familiar glow of golden light emanating from his palm as he hovers it over his stub that was once his right arm.

"The high and mighty fallen to the ground, bleeding like a mortal," I state with a derisive tone as I walk slowly towards Morokei, "it is quite clear that whatever enchantments brought you back was not strong enough. So the question is… _what_ brought you back? Better yet, to whom may I owe this pleasure of killing you again?"

Morokei lets out another sound of hate as if trying his best to intimidate me. Unlike before when he would snarl like a proud dragon, this time, his animal-like objection sounds like a sabercat stumbling away as a dozen arrows protrudes from its back due to a hunter's effort. He knows I toy with him and I am allowing him to use his restoration spell to subdue the fatal wounds that he suffered from Muramasa. He also knows that every second counts and as I point my blade at him, his casting ends and he stares at the tip of my threat with hate before glaring at me.

"…Vorohah… _Miraak_…"

The word in dragon tongue I might have known but the name of the First Dragonborn is something I seemed to have clung on to far more than I should have. Miraak brought this Dragonpriest back to life? Miraak is alive? How? And…. If Morokei isn't in his condition, he might have been able to gain an advantage of the moment. Gritting my teeth, I shake the thoughts off and reaffirmed my grip on Muramasa. Raising it over my head, I prepare for the killing blow. If all of this is the work of Miraak—Senna's death, Elsa, High Hrothgar, and the strange events whispered all across Tamriel—then I will undo it in his honor. If he is indeed alive… then…

"Onyx! Look out!"

As soon as I hear Elsa's warning, I turn to face behind me but by then it seemed a little too late. I hear her scream in pain and not a few moments later, she falls backwards leaving me little time to react. I rush towards Elsa, catching her in my arms and easing her gently to the ground. It is then I notice the horrible sight of an arrow sticking out of her. If I am not mistaken, she… saved me…. Glancing up with narrowed eyes, I see the archer, a woman clad in armor all too distinguishable.

"What have you done!" another presence comes bursting through the storm. "Ahna, you fool! What have you done?"

I pay the other newcomer no attention as my focus seems to shift between the archer and Elsa; but the Snow Queen has my immediate concern. "O-On…nyx…" She trembles as she speaks and she winces in agony as the little action she takes causes even more discomfort. With tears pouring out of her eyes, she stares at me distressingly, almost as if she is begging for some kind of solace from me. While luckily the arrow struck her on her right shoulder, away from immediate fatal concerns, the fact of the matter is that the pain itself is something that could very well be Elsa's undoing. The wound has to be treated immediately and whatever spell is imbued with the arrow has to be dealt with in the ways of arcane restoration—the skill that I… _lack_.

Looking up and giving this Ahna my attention, "**_FO KRAH DIIN_**!" I shout at the archer with the utmost hatred I can muster.

**To Be Continued.**


	23. Elsa: The Beggar Prince

Hans thought it was an insane idea to walk through the storm. He wanted to protest but his opinions are small compared to the people who surround him. The feeling of inferiority is elaborated when Miraak uttered more foreign words that clear enough of the storm to create a path for them to trek through. At first, Hans was unsure if it was safe—safe for him, that is. For Ahna, Lurrgham, Fenalf, and Thiera, of course, it's safe. They practically waited for less than a second to enter the storm after Miraak shouted his incantations; they know it's safe. They know power. Even the few individuals garbed in robes (individuals whom Hans didn't bother to know their names) walked through the pacified storm without hesitation. Hans had to think twice before even taking his first step. Though his reluctance caused him to fall behind the crowd so his last few steps had an urgency to avoid the possible consequences.

"Tell me, Prince, the majority of the population in your world, are they as powerless as you?" he was so lost in thought that Hans didn't notice Miraak was 'waiting' for him; Pure luck for Hans for the First Dragonborn to actually want to trade words with him.

"There are different kinds of power, Miraak. But if you are speaking in terms of magic, unfortunately, you are correct in your assumption." Hans detests the way Miraak speaks to him. The others aren't any better of course, but there is an air of arrogance in Miraak that surpasses everyone that Hans has encountered here in Skyrim. An ambiance of superiority—he projects himself as some god walking among ants. Choosing how to speak to a 'god', articulating his words with some humility is something that Hans hates even more and he constantly has to find the balance between 'acting' strong and knowing his place.

"How unfortunate. To feel as small as you do must make it hard to open your eyes every morning."

Of course, Miraak will not fall short of undermining Hans. He should be used to it by now but the Prince loathes being called anything less than what he is supposed to be. Feeling his teeth grinding, Hans focuses his hatred towards the cold where he can curse at it vocally without worrying too much about the ramifications. This whole journey has been about him learning how to channel his frustration in productive ways and observing his surroundings is just the way to do that. Though the environment at the moment has very little to offer. Aside from the wooden bridge that Hans thought would collapse as soon as he stepped on it, the route has had very little to nothing to indicate that civilization touched this mountain path. Sure there are rock-made monuments every once in a while, but for the most part, it has been nothing but snow, more snow, and then, of course, the occasional ice-like creatures slithering in the cold-ridden air like worms on land. The first time they came across the creatures, Hans reached for his blade, but with the company he keeps, there was hardly any need for him against a small number of supernatural enemies. Unable to truly admit it, the occasional harassment of savage 'wildlife' did keep the trek somewhat interesting for Hans even if all he did was watch from a distance as the mages threw their spells to deter any attackers from getting close. But leave it to the Orc in their group to demand obnoxiously to allow some of the beasts to get close. Luckily for Lurrgam, he got a piece of the action and Hans witnessed the Orc's uneasiness as the Prince walked passed the carcass of what Hans can only compare to a gorilla. A white furred and much more ferocious looking gorilla that is—though much of the creature was smashed under the weight of Lurrgam's hammer so Hans can only speculate on what is left. After a certain point, however, the need to defend themselves stopped altogether and with the exception of Miraak's decision to put him down with words, the journey became uneventful once again.

"But there are events in Tamriel that cultivated pitiful souls like you to become something worthy," and with those words, Hans misses an uneventful journey with a passion. "In fact, there was once a Bosmer by the name of Wheedle. Like you, he was the 13th child of a king. Like you, he would have lived the rest of his royal life as powerless and voiceless as a child—merchants of the lower class would have held more voice and opinions about the daily routines of the kingdom than any prince in your place. In fact, if I was told correctly when you rotted in prison, your brother spoke to every merchant and trader in and out of your kingdom and he left you as you were: forgotten."

Hans clenched his fist so hard that he can feel the metal in his armor grind against the leather on his gloves. "I am going to assume that there is a point to this?"

"There is always a point when I speak," the response Hans received from Miraak was as stern as it was adequate. Realizing that he allowed his anger to seep out a bit, Hans nodded his head at the First Dragonborn, gesturing to him that he was ready to listen to the rest of Miraak's story. "Wheedle had the fortunate—or unfortunate—luck of running into one of the Daedric Princes, Namira herself. Seeing the opportunity, the prince begged the Daedric Prince to take him under her wing. One can fathom that the Daedric Prince did not simply present such opportunity for the Bosmer. It took 33 days of imploring, weeping, and unimaginable endurance until finally, Namira bestowed Wheedle the power he was seeking."

Hans had to momentarily shift his attention away from Miraak as he called upon his new power to aid him. As the warm and golden light emerges from his palms, Hans can feel solace against the bitter cold wind that continues to hound him. "What power did this Wheedle receive?" Hans asked in the proudest voice he can muster. Despite his 'low' status, Hans has to uphold an image.

"Powers beyond his understanding at the time. Powers that gave him the name: the Beggar Prince."

Hans scoffed at Miraak's word, almost forgetting who is walking beside him. "If this is your idea of comparison then you are sadly mistaken."

With his snake like tongue peeking for a moment, Miraak's draconian eye omitted a glow as he grins in a sickening manner. "Oh? How do you figure that?"

"I do not beg for power, nor have I ever. I play my hand and take what is mine."

"Is that so? What you mean to tell me is that you are merely playing a ruse at the moment and when the time is right, you will take what you believe is yours?" Hans opened his mouth to respond but no words came out. This time, the Prince's reaction is faster than his thought; no clever or adequate response, just silence. The First Dragonborn saw this and lets out a loud chuckle as if being thoroughly amused by a jester's act. It takes a few moments but eventually Miraak answers with words. "By all means, Prince Hans, do what you feel is necessary. Play your hand and take the steps you need to gain what you need to," stopping in his tracks, Miraak stares at Hans eye to eye, "but know this, boy: if you do not play your game right, you will beg for your life at the end of your awry path."

Hans shivered. It was cold, yes, but Hans acknowledging his fear inwardly is what evoked the spine-tingling feeling. Having to stare at Miraak's unrelenting gaze longer than he would want, Hans can hardly keep his body from shuddering. When the First Dragonborn eventually goes back to focusing on moving forward, Hans could feel relief wash over him. While he was not completely sure how and when he was going to use what he gains power and resource-wise, the Prince knew he had to do it; obviously, that would require for him to eliminate a few of them, which on its own is problematic. While it would be obvious for some of them to suspect that of him, Hans did not expect any of them, Miraak out of all people, to vocally express it to him. This definitely does dampen his spirits of turning that idea into a reality. Clearly, he has to be even wiser if he was to gain some kind of footing within these ranks. But for now, he has to be obedient and walk with their plans for him, however, humiliating or intimidating that may be.

"Make haste," Ahna calls to Hans, waiting for him to catch up.

"I can hardly wait what is going to happen next."

Ahna says nothing and perhaps she doesn't need to. With the group seemingly ending their journey, they gathered themselves in front of a monument of some sort, which appears to be some kind of wall; an oddly placed wall to say the least. As far as Hans could see, this is the top of this mountain. There is nowhere else to go but the sky, and for an archaic wall such as that one to be built in the middle of nowhere seems peculiar. But he also suspects that there is something else beyond what the naked eye can see—then again, with Tamriel, not everything can be comprehended by visually seeing it. The glowing object hovering in front of the said wall can obviously attest to the idea that things are much more than what it seems. And as Hans walks closer, he starts to realize that what he thought was just part of the wall protruding on the ground is something much more. In fact, it almost seems like it is some kind of…

"Dragon skeleton," Ahna tells him as if reading his mind. "Many dragons fell here."

It is almost astonishing that creatures as mighty as Dragons could be slain. Hans heard stories on the way to Tamriel about Dragonslayers—about people like Miraak and the dark armored man named Onyx. He found it impossible that a man is born to do such feats, but with what he has seen, the idea of dragons dying at the hands of a man is not that far fetched as it was before. Still, seeing a dragon's remains splayed out around a structure as if it died protecting it is a sight to be seen.

"Go. It will begin soon."

Ahna simply tells him, urging him through the crowd. He stares at her as if truly feeling somewhat secure in her presence, despite the fact that she is not entirely his ally. But that does not change the fact that he feels protected with her around, and when he starts to walk through the crowd full of people (and beast-men) that clearly abhors him, he can only hope that the idea of his safety is going to be honored. Though they seem to let him pass, stepping out of his way as if forming a path for someone they see as royalty—well, he is royalty, but in this world, he is nothing more than just a figure to do the bidding of this Lord. But he seems to play a part larger than what he was meant to play back at home. While the methods may not be the most pleasant, Hans is given the opportunity to gain power beyond what he normally can accomplish. He is given tools such as the amulet that bestow him power, provided with an enchanted set of armor, and armed with a sword that is also of magical property. All in all, this is far more than he has ever received in his life despite being royal blood. The mistreatment and the constant condescending remarks are the norms for Hans; it's the larger than life people who are capable of godly feats is something that he needs more time to get used to.

"Are you ready?" speaking of fearsome, Miraak's voice echoes across the wide open space of the land as he stands in the middle of the wall—like some priest ready to endow another soul with the maker's blessing, his words piercing through the cold and strong bitter wind. As if he needed any more implication of power, Miraak conveniently is standing over the skull of the dragon; his foot mere inches from dragon's colossal jaws; a mouth most likely responsible for the deaths of countless men and women when it roamed the earth—or the sky in a dragon's case. "Then come forth. Give your life to a superior purpose than your own."

At first, Hans was unsure who Miraak was talking to. He had an inkling the words were directed to him, but seeing as how a hooded man walks towards Miraak, it is quite obvious that he wasn't talking to Hans.

"My soul is yours," the man eases the hood off of his face, revealing another pale skinned elf whose hair is completely shaved off. From Hans' observation, it is quite clear that the procedure of shaving his head bald was quite recently.

"I have no need for your soul. But an old accomplice of mine surely will need it."

Wulfgar remained motionless up until Miraak uttered those words. In his hands, he holds yet another one of those strange masks—similar as the one that came to life not too long ago only more silver in color rather than the green-like metal of the previous one.

"And what of you, boy?" Miraak projects his voice towards Hans, forcing the Prince to give him his full attention. "Are you ready?"

Hans feels everyone staring at him and can also hear the murmurs full of mocking, especially from the familiar Orc and his mage friend. Taking a deep breath, the Prince takes a step forward, momentarily glancing at the elf who is giving him a pompous look, as if this pointy eared fellow is worthy to scoff at Hans that way. "I am," he tells Miraak sternly, deciding to finally give the First Dragonborn his full attention instead of giving it to everyone else. "They can mock me all they want," Hans tells himself, "I am going to take what is rightfully mine."

With a smirk, Miraak gestures with his hand towards Wulfgar and the silent man took heed. With the mask in his hand, he lifted his arms and spoke, "_Lahney Ontsoz_," the ground shook once more and the mask, like the one before it, starts to hover, glowing in a dangerously beautiful azure light. "**Live**."

Wulfgar's words evoked something from the mask and within seconds, the mask flies towards the elf, colliding with him with such a force that throws Elf on his back. Hans cringed as the sound of the metal mask hitting the Elf's face still resonates as if Hans himself was struck. Of course the mask starting to let off a dangerous glow, Hans can only fathom just what the pointy-eared man is feeling now. Well, the fact that he is screaming from the top of his lungs while he thrashes about vehemently on the ground is enough to describe the level of suffering he is taking. But in a blink of an eye, all movement stops abruptly, leaving the Elf lying down face first on the snow.

"Be prepared."

The familiar voice of Ahna reaches out to Hans as she stands a few feet behind him with her bow and arrow ready. There was a small part of Hans that thought that the elf could not take whatever ritual he took on but that thought was quickly discarded with Ahna's words. When the body suddenly twitches before letting out an animalistic sound, Hans admonished himself for thinking so foolishly. Soon enough, the elf starts to get to his feet slowly, and in a rather disturbing manner. The way his body is contorting and twisting, Hans can only ask himself if an elf's spine is supposed to be that flexible… an asinine afterthought since the moment the possessed elf gains its bearings, its focus is immediately on Hans. Thinking about another races' anatomy is hardly something he should consider important as a forefront thought.

"Morokei," the once elven figure lets out the familiar shriek and glowered at Miraak. The First Dragonborn merely chuckles as the creature ignites its palm with sparks of lightning. "It truly honors me that you remember me as well. But I am not the wielder of your fate. That boy is."

Hans prepares himself as the creature known as Morokei focused on him once again. Even with the headgear obstructing any kind of emotions, Hans can feel Morokei's angst seething out of its form. With the amulet letting out a spark of energy, Hans knew that the inevitable battle has begun—and if that wasn't enough to hint at the fact, Morokei hurling the gathered lightning at Hans' direction is an irrefutable sign. And despite Hans' attempt to react, he was struck by the spell, forcing him backward and on the ground coughing. Pain is a familiar friend. After all, he has felt its company since he was a young boy. His brothers used to beat him for the sake of beating him, and the spell colliding with his chest reminds him of his 5th older brother's fist. Back then he was abused and ridiculed because he would amount to nothing; he was the 13th prince after all and his chances of gaining any sort of power were not even remotely close to a possibility. This time, it is a possibility. When he managed to put an end to the one named 'Rahgot, Hans gained power beyond his understanding. It was intoxicating and satisfying to feel that much power flow through his veins… magic… miracles… sorcery… whatever it may be, Hans wants more. If taking bumps and bruises would provide the very thing that he needs, then by the heavens Hans would endure. Quickly rolling out of the way to avoid his head being smashed by Morokei's staff, Hans jumps to his feet and immediately puts his blade in front of him. The Prince has every intention to turn this battle around to his advantage.

"_I will win and I'll show all of them_!" he fervently tells himself as he takes the initiative and attacks the newly reanimated Dragonpriest.

* * *

There was no use trying to lie to herself: Elsa did not enjoy the duration of her stay in Fort Amol. It was a tough environment that much is obvious and Elsa felt out of place—as she should. And it's not because she is a Queen that she feels that she should not be around soldiers; as a matter of fact, Elsa spends time with her guards when she wasn't taken away with her duties as Queen. She would throw small events in dedication of them; in fact, it was because of one such event that she was able to learn about as much as she did about the late Marius. Needless to say, Elsa cares firsthand about her soldiers' welfare, and in general, respects anyone who wears the uniform of their respected kingdom. But as much as she holds that veneration to heart, the people in Fort Amol carries an ambiance that is slightly off putting for Elsa. While the majority of them merely stared at her, there are some who dug their eyes on her as if they have not seen a woman in decades. What might have been going through their minds was something Elsa could live without. Then, of course, there was the glaring; probably a product of the company she seeks (or perhaps keeps her). The legendary Dragonborn was supposed to be a hero according to Elisif, but here is Onyx… a detested person by most.

"Stay close I said!" Onyx shouts as he fires his crossbow, killing the wolf instantly. "Unless you decide to drop your inhibition on killing animals, you would bode well to stop wandering in your mind."

The moment they left the Fort, Elsa could not be any more relieved, but the feeling of respite vanished quickly as they ventured further. Having to fend off wildlife is something that Elsa truly detests, but it's not something that she cannot do. The path to her ice castle is teeming with its own set of dangers and savage wildlife is one of them so fending off a pack of wolves is something she is familiar with. Though her methods are not as bloody as Onyx's. While it comes to no surprise that Onyx would use cold-blooded methods, seeing wolf after wolf slain in front of her is something she does not want to get used to. With the last set of wolves, Elsa creates a cage made of thick ice, rendering them to useless snarling dogs unable to chew out of their frozen prison.

"I apologize. There is … too much to take in," she whispers the last statement as if she herself has gotten tired of stating the obvious. She expects Onyx to berate her for using it as an excuse, but surprisingly, he hasn't said anything. Eerily, he stands his ground, crossbow in hand and his gaze straight ahead. "Onyx?" he doesn't reply. Treading softly, Elsa walks to his side and catches a sight that is all too familiar. "Heavens is that…?"

"Irileth's warning was not an exaggeration after all," Onyx states coldly as he interrupts Elsa. "Perhaps you should stay behind while I look into it." Elsa could take those words offensively, but there was a concern in his voice so the Snow Queen can let it go without some harsh rebuttal in the form of words. But it does not change the fact that Elsa thinks that it was a rather stupid suggestion; A suggestion that she ignores and merely gives Onyx a stern look as she signals with her head to lead on. "Very well." He tells her as he takes the first stride towards the intimidating sight of what frost magic could do if it was untamed.

Much to Elsa's disdain, this sight is a familiar one. Every step closer, The Queen of Arendelle is reminded of the destruction she once involuntarily caused her own people when her powers were discovered. The frozen fjord was littered with remains of foreign ships. The land was deathly white and the air was even bitterer with the coldness it brought. Civilization hid within the safety of their homes, trying desperately to find warmth in the Eternal Winter the Sorceress Queen summoned. The vivid imagery is something Elsa still remembers and to anyone unable to find it in them to forgive what she had done, the story of the Evil Snow Queen described the horrors well… she is reminded almost every day and being in Skyrim, here in this frozen graveyard that was once a village, the horror lives again. Though the cause might not stem from a single woman unable to control her powers, but from people far more sinister than Elsa would like to imagine. One can also take a guess that the intimidating sight of the storm also had a hand in the carnage occurred here.

"_Imagine if you use your powers correctly, Elsa_," the voice echoes again, pulling Elsa's focus away from the raging storm ahead of her, "_think of what you can accomplish_."

Elsa's eyes widen at this thought. What she can accomplish opposed to WHAT she had accomplished is a rather daunting thought since the voice in her head seems to want to push her to perform heinous deeds. To think that there is something within her that enjoyed the atrocity that happened in Arendelle or perhaps cares very little for what could have happened to Anna had her sister chose not to persevere. Is Elsa's fate truly bound to her powers? Does it mean that she can control her fate if she is able to control them? Is it a curse or a gift? These are the same questions she was asking herself that fateful day when the Elder Troll took away Anna's memories. Elsa thought she answered them when she was able to cast away the Eternal Winter, but here she is again asking them again.

"This…" she pauses as she can feel the dark magic flowing everywhere, "…magic is evil." Everything the ice touches, Elsa can sense evil. What's even more frightening is that she is attuned to it, as if she has knowledge of the dark arts that exists within this realm.

"It's not the magic we should consider evil but the questionable motives of the people using it."

Elsa wasn't quite sure why she spoke her thoughts out loud but she did and Onyx had the need to respond to it and for a moment, Elsa had to really ponder the 'true' meaning behind the Dragonborn's response. It's easy to push it off as an excuse for him to say that because he uses his powers to his own accord. In one aspect, it can be perceived that he can dismiss the nature of one's powers as evil or good depending on the scenario he faces. That way he won't have to bother with someone's opinion or judgment; basically, he has no obligations towards any side of morality. But something about his words resonates and it doesn't take long for Elsa to hear Anna's voice saying a similar phrase.

* * *

'Why didn't you just tell me in the first place?'

Anna grumpily asked Elsa as she watched her sister repair the damage done to her Ice Castle. It was a perfect day for Elsa to spend time on her most prized work of art since she had a moment to take time away from the politics she had been dealing with since thawing the Eternal Winter.

'Because… because I was told and made to believe that it was the best thing to do.'

'After Mama and Papa passed away, did you still think it was the best thing to do?'

Elsa almost lost the progress she made repairing her balcony door due to her concentration being jarred by such a question. It was cold, blunt, and almost out of character for the Princess of Arendelle. Even the face Anna made, the admonishing and disappointed look, didn't quite settle with Elsa.

'Anna,' Elsa was eventually able to muster some words to respond with, 'I wish I had known better. Had I did, we would not have lost so much time. I mean, I know that our parents were only doing what they thought was best and unfortunately, I couldn't control my powers quick enough to know if it was a curse or a gift.'

As she spoke, Elsa continued her work on repairing; using her hands to guide her mind as she magically brought the broken doors back to their original state with ease. Even the majestic design of her 'Snow Queen' symbol was reimagined without so much of a strain. To Anna, the entire process was an alluring display of magic and art in one. It was almost like Elsa's magic was the utensil used to create while the ice was the white canvas—a place for Elsa to give her imagination life. With a smile, the Princess of Arendelle stood closer by her sister's side; her bright blue eyes remained fixated on the repairs that Elsa made.

'It really is beautiful, Elsa,' she told Elsa as she leaned her head on her sister's shoulder. 'For a while there, the only thing Arendelle saw was the damage your powers can do but even without my memories, I always knew that you could create beautiful things. And as amazing as your Ice Castle is, nothing can compare to Olaf—A snowman whose heart is as warm as yours. That right there, Elsa, that is the meaning of your powers.'

'But I have also caused pain.'

'Only because you didn't know how to control your powers or when you were forced to. And I wouldn't mind if you caused that Hans some of that pain.'

Anna giggled despite the statement. In that moment, Elsa pondered just how strong her sister is. Anna had gone through a lot and anyone that had experienced what she had should have given up—Elsa knew she would have, but not Anna. Anna is resilient, brave, and if nothing else, very stubborn. But Anna was the one that truly saved Arendelle and Elsa. She was the one that truly taught Elsa that love—the ability to love oneself and the people around her was the key to controlling her powers. If it wasn't for Anna, then Elsa's fear would have driven her magic to destroy Arendelle; and the scarier thought was it would not have ended there.

'Mama and Papa would be so proud of you, Elsa,' those words caused Elsa to skip a heartbeat, 'they knew that you always wanted to use your gift to keep me happy and safe.'

* * *

Shifting her mind back to the present, Elsa thought about Onyx's statement about the user's motives about magic and what is considered to be appalling or justified. Elsa's motives when she first fully harnessed her powers were questionable. She wasn't sure what she wasn't doing, but she knew letting go made her feel happy even in the back of her mind her decision on isolating herself meant staying away from Anna. She was not aware that she would cause such a disaster and the more her powers frightened her, the more volatile they became. Point was, she never wanted to cause any harm. But something about this scenario—something about the thick emotions in the air that seethes with malice, ill-doing, and obvious evil intent. This was not questionable. This was evil at work.

"Questionable?" Elsa states out loud, disgusted at the idea that the caster's intent in this place would even be mistaken for anything but evil. Pausing, Onyx turns to face her slightly, clearly waiting for her to go further with the conversation. A conversation that is probably left alone, Elsa surmises. "Would you happen to know who these people are?"

"I knew who lived atop the mountains, but as far as I know, they would not have created that and caused all this."

The wall of storm lets out yet another thunder as if trying to frighten the two from getting any closer. It never seems to stop shocking Elsa (in some cases appalling her) the powers that can be utilized in this world. Now that she has seen first hand that there are more conjurers existing, Elsa truly has to ponder the idea of what she can really do. What if she truly did let loose and act on emotions that could cause harm? Will that truly make her magic evil? If she gets back to Arendelle, will Anna still see her magic as something beautiful, or will her sister see all the blood that had stained Elsa's hands?

"_Lok_!" startled by Onyx's use of his unique magic, Elsa turns to him and watches as the wave of energy projects from his body and into the storm. Sadly, as astonishing as his powers may be, it does nothing. "_Lok Vah Koor_!" and even with a stronger spell, the storm continues to stand in front of them; unbothered by Onyx's attempt and unwilling to bend to their needs.

"_You know he can't do it. But YOU can._"

Elsa clenches her fists as she finds herself rather agitated by the constant pestering of the voice inside her head. Clearly, it represents everything Elsa fears and hates about her powers; and if it has its way, Anna would definitely see Elsa's magic as a curse—and Anna fearing Elsa for any reason is a thought that dejects the Snow Queen far more than most things she has experienced in Skyrim.

* * *

Learning how to use a sword as a young boy was not a fun experience for Hans. It often ended with him bleeding, bruised, and fighting off tears since his brothers often used it as an excuse to beat him without worrying too much about their Mother scolding them. Runo and Rudi took great pride in the young Prince's lessons, and to this day, Hans can remember every painful mistake he made whenever he missed a strike, left himself open, or was unable to fend off the pain quick enough. But through the years he endured and eventually, the 13th Prince learned; his skills grew, and he turned the table; soon his brothers were the ones licking their wounds. What he once dreaded became moments where he can feel pride—besting any of his brothers in anything was something Hans can always consider as a blessing. But now more than ever, Hans is grateful for those times even the unorthodox way his brothers taught him. It might have been cruel, and it might have taken years to turn the tide, but the beating, the goading, and the humiliation… these were something Hans needed to experience in order for him to keep a steady mind in his current situation. Said situation demands him to be at his best after all.

"You are draining your magicka," right after Ahna's words, a small explosion causes Morokei to cut off its attack. "Your ward is also not strong enough to withstand his level of spells."

Ahna fires another arrow, keeping the Dragonpriest on the defense while Hans tries to regain his breath after retracting his ward. It was one thing to be exhausted from the physical effort, it's another to use magic and deplete one's self. To Hans, it's the feeling of being drained mentally as well as physically. Nothing in his past experience in swordplay compares to this.

"How do you even get close to that thing?"

"One moment," immediately after releasing the string of her bow, Ahna's arrow lets out a glow before changing into pure energy, which strikes the ground Morokei is standing on. "Attack now!" for a moment, Ahna's attack seemed to have done nothing, until the area where the arrow punctured released a burst of energy, which forced the Dragonpriest stumbling. This gives Hans the moment he needs.

With his sword in tow, Hans charges towards Morokei with full confidence that the moment is his as she shouts his the words, "Your power is mine, creature!"

As if understanding what was just said, Morokei hurls yet another spell, forcing Hans to rethink his attack as well as forcing Ahna to drop her aim and step to the side. The Dragonpriest does not stop there, with his staff in hand, he releases a streak of lightning that would obliterate anything or anyone in its path, which delays anything Hans was going to attempt. As he took cover, Hans tried desperately to conduct a plan that would bring him to the offense without relying too much on Ahna. As it is, his companion is already preparing to move, which would mean that anything that prevents the creature from casting would be Hans' chance to strike. Again he has to swallow his pride and accept that at the moment, he is a fish out of the sea.

Then the moment came and Morokei's spell stops immediately.

"Now's my chance!" with that in mind, Hans pushes off from behind the rock and prepares to rush the Dragonpriest only to find a rather peculiar sight. Morokei, who was hurling spells mere moments ago is now standing with a confused stance, his head turning towards his right as if something compels him to stand motionless and gawk. "That power is as good as mine!" And Hans knew that this was a moment not to be wasted and engages, and by the time Morokei realized it, Hans had already made his first cut—not a lethal strike, but enough to cause the Dragonpriest to stumble in agony. Hans doesn't stop there and pushes his attack, making a few good contacts, causing Morokei screeching in pain. In the end, it only served to aggravated Morokei, which results to him casting a barrier of lightning that covers his entire body. The effect was immediate and Hans finds himself scurrying backward from the range of Morokei's spell. He does not escape unscathed and he can feel his entire body shaken by the force of the element pervading all over him. He watches helplessly as Morokei lets out a snarl before taking off, leaving Hans sitting on his behind, gathering himself as the spell continues to hound him.

"On your feet!" Ahna's voice eventually punctures Hans' jarred mind. "We cannot let him escape."

As if Hans didn't know that. A hostile verbal rebuttal was Hans' first instinct, but he was all too aware that doing so would accomplish nothing. Instead, he uses whatever energy he had regained to push himself to his feet. The moment he accomplishes that, he tries to push for a running start, nearly falling back down due to his body not fully recovered.

"Why did he run off?"

"Something outside the walls," Ahna replies as she runs by his side, "which makes the task of catching him even more of a pressing task. We need to move with haste."

Hans knew with those words that Ahna was going to use some kind of magic to accomplish the said task, and he was right to assume. A strange display of purple-like flames appears in front of Hans, and what manifested after is another out this world creature. At first glance, the creature very much well resembled a horse with the long back made for mounting, strong muscular legs, and even the long face with the familiar snout. Though aside from the stature and form, everything else becomes foreign—its color reminds Hans of a crystal like rock, the ones that are common in the deeper waters of the Isles, which makes the 'horse' even more out of this world just by skin tone alone because of the numerous shades of turquoise all throughout its body. To add even more extravagance, the mane and tail are glowing in an aura similar to the sun when one stares at it at its peak during the day. Definitely, a creature that seems a bit too vibrant.

"Are you trying to make me look like a typical prince from _fairy tale_ books?" though as Hans hesitantly starts to climb his mount, he gets an even more peculiar sight of Ahna jumping into a similar beast. "A dragon would have been more justified."

Ahna might have given him a glare, but the fact that the helmet offers no window for her face, it's hard to tell. But it already gives off an intimidating aura just by aesthetics alone, which was enough for Hans to let the picture of a woman donning a demonic armor riding a colorful horse (a unicorn) go. Though inside Hans' mind, this decreases Ahna's intimidating factor by a couple of notches. "The Lord is not exactly the draconic type," to Hans' surprise, Ahna addresses his comment, "Miraak, on the other hand, is a different story. Now, no more foolishness; Ride!"

With a quick nudge on Ahna's part, her 'horse' takes off with speed that Hans cannot believe. No horse he has seen can go that fast and all that is physically are the dust of snow erected from the abrupt movement. Taking a deep breath, Hans followed suit, nudging on the reigns of the beast and from there, the creature lunges forward with a force that nearly knocks Hans off of its back. It takes everything in Hans' strength to hold on tightly and for a moment, he panics as he realizes that steering the creature would be more than difficult. Luckily, the beast seems to have a mind of its own as it weaves through the terrain with ease, following the path that Ahna and her mount are traveling on. Despite their speed, the Dragonpriest is out of sight, which means that whatever magic the undead mage used is far more efficient than what Ahna used. Still, Hans has no doubt that they'll catch up in no time. They have to. In the meantime, Hans has to focus on not falling off his horse.

* * *

It came from within the storm and attacked with a ferocity that Elsa can only compare to a wild animal. It seemed to be interested in Onyx, and the creature relentlessly attacked with all its might. For a little while, Elsa was concerned for the Dragonborn since he insinuated that fighting a 'Dragonpriest' would require far more effort than their previous foes. Or at least, that is the message that Elsa gathered. Fortunately, Onyx and Elsa turned the tide of the battle rather quickly.

"The high and mighty fallen to the ground, bleeding like a mortal; it is quite clear that whatever enchantments brought you back was not strong enough. So the question is… what brought you back? Better yet, to whom may I owe this pleasure of killing you again?"

Elsa winces as she gets a better look at the wound Onyx inflicted on the creature known as Morokei. To Elsa, Onyx's prowess with his blade is unrivaled—at least, Elsa has yet to witness anyone move as graceful, fast, and deadly as him with a blade in hand. The prone Dragonpriest with a missing arm can sure attest to Onyx's skill, and it is apparent to Elsa that from the few words traded, this was not the first time they have met. She can only wonder if the first skirmish ended with Onyx pointing his blade at Morokei as he practically 'plays' with his fallen prey.

"…_Vorohah_…" giving into Onyx's question, Morokei responds with that same unworldly and coarse voice, "…_Miraak_…"

The first word was foreign but the second was something she heard before and once again, Elsa can feel Onyx's demeanor change in a way that is too obvious even for a man who hides his emotions behind a mask. Then again, it's not the facial expression that really gives Onyx's distaste for the word, it's in his body language and the act of raising his blade over his head. Elsa wanted no part of this. Despite knowing that the creature known as Morokei would be a threat to the both of them if left unchecked, the Queen of Arendelle is not a murderer by choice. As much as Skyrim had forced her to take actions against her morality, Elsa will not simply let this act be numb to her. She may not stop him, but she can't and won't let herself see the act. In hopes of escaping the sight completely, Elsa averts her attention away. The killing blow will come in a matter of seconds, and perhaps she can find a way to avoid eye contact with the carcass altogether. But in that moment, something else seems to catch her attention. And what her eyes doesn't see, something within tells her that danger is coming in another form.

"Onyx! Look out!" despite not knowing what is heading their way, Elsa reacts by shielding Onyx with her own as she uses her powers in hopes that the preemptive attack would be deterred. Perhaps it would have been enough if she had enough time, but to Elsa's dismay, the attacker was faster—the projectile that was fired was faster than Elsa's magic. And the result is Elsa's downfall. Literally. She wasn't even sure what hit her, but all Elsa knows is that her body is suddenly weightless and plagued by excruciating pain; burning and pain that she never knew one could feel.

"Ahna…" she feels hands on her and she hears a voice from the distance; A voice that she recognizes all too well. "…What have you done?"

With that question, Elsa is able to recognize a foreign object protruding from her shoulder—drowning in the agony caused by it, Elsa can barely open her eyes, but she is at least able to recognize the dreadful sight of an arrow plunged into her. "O-On…nyx…" despite the discomfort of speaking, Elsa instinctively calls out to the only person capable of helping her now and to her surprise, she finds the Dragonborn just within hand's reach—or rather, she finds herself in his arms as he practically cradles her prone body. Somehow, Onyx's ominous presence, (the one that Elsa is well accustomed to) is a sight for sore eyes. The only person that could bring her some kind of relief and right now, the only person that is somehow giving her a small fragment of hope.

"_Poor, poor, Elsa_," the voice taunted, "_I told you that being you is only going to lead to more misery_."

* * *

"**_FO KRAH DIIN_**!"

As if the man in black armor is capable of bringing life to ice and snow, the words uttered brought anything frozen to a fit of rage. Lifting the ice-covered ground, causing them to move like agitated snakes, whipping about, and striking forward with the heads of a spear. Hans had time to jump out of the way and clumsily landing on the ground before rolling to his feet and then moving again, trying his best to steer clear of the ice-made blades. Eventually, the Southern Isles Prince found cover behind another structure that could very well use to be some kind of house, though with the damage done it truly was hard to confirm; all Hans knows was that it was something to use to protect himself. To some degree, it was an astute plan since it did provide the protection he needed in the moments Ebony Dragon's attack lasted, and then some. When it ended, Hans waited a few moments just in case. Finally stepping out, he finds himself facing the onslaught so similar to what Elsa's power is capable of if she ever chooses to use it as she did back then when she defended herself against the Duke's men. A frightening thought to Hans, which is why getting her on his side seems to be the smarter choice. Still, he questions as to how that is possible.

"Ahna!" ducking under a spike on his head level, Hans eases himself forward through the maze of ice-like blades hampering his every move. "Ahna! Where are you?" this is every bit of a mirror of what Hans experienced when they 'searched' for Anna—he remembers trudging through horseback, leading the men that followed him, encouraging them with all the bravado he could muster, trying fervently to hide that he was slightly terrified of what Elsa is capable of doing. While the sight of her ice castle brought said powers to a different light, Hans was not to be fooled—he knew that the Snow Queen was dangerous. But the one thing about Elsa is that she has inhibition—she is emotionally fragile and definitely not a woman who has seen too many bloodsheds. The man responsible for this carnage, however, is the exact opposite. From what Hans gathered, the Ebony Dragon, Onyx, is a man who has lived his days as a taker of life. So to see this result from Onyx's power, well, Hans expected as much and he is already well aware that in order for him to beat Onyx, he has to be stronger, better, and smarter. They're both cold-blooded murderers by heart, but one has the power to decimate a group of well-armed men, mer, and beasts. Hans has seen it first hand.

Speaking of seeing, what lies in the distance, the sight of the same man holding an unconscious and bleeding Elsa is a scene that baffles Hans. The way he is holding her seems too gentle, and all too 'caring' for a man who supposedly dedicated his life being the harbinger of death.

"…g-go… after … him…" the sound of Ahna's voice, strained as it may be, brings Hans some relief, "… do not… let it… it get… away…"

But said relief quickly disappeared the moment he finds Ahna. The strained way she said the last statement is quickly explained—forced into an upright position by the curves of blade-like ice that punctured different parts of her body, Hans can hardly believe that the armored woman still managed a few words, much more, still live after being impaled.

"Ahna... are you—?"

"The… Priest!" Ahna wriggles angrily making Hans wince at the sight of her impaled body squirming despite the fatal injuries. "… you fool!…" as she struggled to get those last two words out, Ahna stops speaking and moving altogether and collapses—she would have hit the ground if it were not for the ice puncturing her to hold her up.

Hans takes a few steps back as he stares morbidly. It's not so much concern as it is the shock of seeing someone as dangerous as Ahna taken out viciously in mere moments. A powerful foe such as the Ebony Dragon gives Hans all the more reason to abide by Ahna's words. Taking one last glance towards the direction where Onyx was, Hans is not surprised that the Dragonborn and Elsa are no longer there. With the sounds of voices coming from the mountains where Hans and Ahna came from, it is clearly obvious that Miraak had sent reinforcements. Clearly, someone like Hans would not be able to contend against Onyx without help and his 'guardian' is now lifeless—hanging by the blades that took her life away. Taking a deep breath, Hans sets his mind towards his goal. The Dragonpriest was clearly no match for Onyx as well and Hans could only hope that the duel between the Priest and the Dragon was enough to give Hans the advantage that he needs.

* * *

"…_fin_…_ni_… _nol_ _het_…"

More words that Hans can't understand; but he doesn't really need to at this point, the Dragonpriest's waning condition is all he needs to comprehend. And for the first time since arriving in Skyrim, the Prince is standing over someone—one who was once a fearsome creature with powers beyond Hans.

"…_fin_ _mey_… _fin_ _kod_…"

What was once its arm is now the very thing that helped Hans find the creature known as Morokei. Unable to stop the bleeding, the Dragonpriest left a trail of blood that stained the white ground; even now, it continues to darken the ground beneath as the Priest tries desperately, and in vain, to get to its feet. The act of trying to heal itself had drained the Dragonpriest of its magicka—it curses the host it took on for being so weak and frail. It would have had enough to subdue the fatal wound and throw a few more spells that would have prevented this Prince to get this close. But as fate would have it, Morokei was given the body that it did, leaving him with only a small fragment of power he used to own.

"…_fin_ _mey_…"

"Save your breath, creature," Hans draws his sword arm back and over his head as he speaks, "I don't understand and I don't care. Beg for your life and hope that whatever god you believe in pities you."

Hans' blade came down—the Prince of the Southern Isles barely blinked as his strike took his opponent's head from its shoulders.

**To Be Continued.**


End file.
